Aeneus Idola
by Stewbacca94
Summary: Dr. Pyrrha Nikos has got a target on her back, and is being hunted by someone (or something) for her latest find. Can the famed archaeologist fight off the oncoming storm with Inspector Jaune Arc, or will the "curse" of the Eye of Ra claim her? RWBY Belladonna Lilies AU.
1. Vallis Autem Reges

Chapter One: Vallis Autem Reges

Monday, the 7th of October, 1889.

The Valley of the Kings, one of the most sacred places to ancient man, lay bare to the world on the west side of the Nile, opposite the city of Luxor in eastern Egypt. Over the last century or so, explorers had returned here time after time to discover new tombs, catalogue the old ones, and claim the treasures they held. On this day, amongst the morass of sand surrounding the eastern side of the Valley, stood one of the foremost and youngest archaeologists in the Royal Society. Her name was Dr. Pyrrha Alizarine Nikos.

The safari outfit this woman wore indicated a fair degree of experience in her field, proving to the neutral observer that she _wasn't_ one to bury herself in history books all day. Pyrrha's brown great coat was well worn, as were her sand-coloured pants, white shirtwaist and brown riding boots. Her pith helmet was firmly affixed on top of her auburn mane, which had been tied into a bun for safety.

The horn-rimmed glasses Pyrrha usually wore had been replaced with a pair containing polarised lenses, which darkened her vision but enabled the intense sunlight to become more manageable. A burlap sack with her remaining supplies and travel case was slung over her left shoulder.

At present, Pyrrha was looking at the sky, determined to figure out something vital to her work at this point.

"Hmm. Just before high noon, if I'm any judge. Better get to work now and leave before my departure at sunset."

Pyrrha's path led her east from the Valley, towards an unexplored site that she'd spotted about fifty-five yards northeast of Hatshepsut's tomb. Onwards she walked, until she beheld one of the few tombs which hadn't been approached, let alone examined or excavated. Upon arrival, Pyrrha produced her radiant, swapped her polarised glasses for her real ones, then entered the tomb.

* * *

Thankfully, the front room was clear. Most of the tombs in the valley needed serious excavation before the idea of exploration was considered viable, but Pyrrha's luck was with her today.

"Excellent!", she softly exclaimed as she flicked her radiant open. "With the front room already cleared, I can find out what this place is, collect whatever artifacts lie within, and get out of here a few hours ahead of schedule."

Examining the hieroglyphs, Pyrrha's eidetic memory for this subject served her well as she transcribed the writing on the wall. She hadn't gotten far before she discovered the identity of the royalty buried here.

"This … this is Tetesheri's tomb. She was the matriarch of the Royal Family between the late 17th _and_ early 18th dynasties! This is an amazing find!"

After writing down the rest of the visible hieroglyphs, Pyrrha whipped out her kodak-maker to augment the documentation side of things. Running off of a small verdant Dust battery, this technological marvel enabled her to capture a scene and produce a rendering of reasonable quality, provided one shook the instantly-produced image for a minute. After about six minutes of taking kodaks, the archaeologist placed her camera and notebook inside the sack, and walked down the lone passageway. She'd only gotten ten yards before she faced a wall of giant stones.

However, Pyrrha wasn't to be deterred by mere loosened earth. She produced a shaped charge designed specifically for excavation, placing it in a gap close to the centre. It contained sienna Dust around the exterior, and crimson Dust in the middle, separated by strong fabrics. Pyrrha activated the charge and ran back into the first room, ducking to the left of the entrance just before the rock pile got vapourised.

As any learned Dust user knew, sienna Dust aided in the manipulation of any kind of stone, mineral or natural surface such as sand or earth – excluding Dust itself, of course. When used alone, sienna Dust reacted with the air and particles around it to cause instantaneous mudslides – hence why it wasn't usually used alone in combat situations. However, sienna Dust was unique amongst naturally-occuring Dust types, in that it had differing effects when combined with other Dust types, making it a useful tool.

For instance, if one were to employ a mixture of sienna and the attraction-based violet Dust against metal, it would render the metal malleable; with a precision tool or weapon, the metal could even be controlled by the user. Likewise, mixing sienna with the repulsion-causing cobalt Dust could cause localised earthquakes. However, the sienna-crimson mixture that Pyrrha used caused stonework to implode into tiny specks, leaving nothing but a small pile of ash in it's wake.

She'd already lodged an application for the patent, believing that it could be used in the mining industry. "SNC" was what she called it.

* * *

Stepping over the ash pile, Pyrrha strode on with radiant in hand down the passageway. Unusually, there weren't any hieroglyphs along either side in this tomb. Finally, the main burial chamber appeared before the doctor. Pyrrha looked around her in great reverence as Tetesheri's final resting place appeared before her in all it's grandeur.  
The room's floor was easily twenty-five yards square in surface area, and the room boasted a seven yard-high ceiling.

"Good heavens! The ancient Egyptians must've exalted Tetesheri _dearly_ for her to receive a tomb like this," observed an awestruck Pyrrha.

On the wall leading to the main entrance, the hieroglyphs were in _immaculate_ condition, unlike any other tomb that Pyrrha had ever laid eyes on in her twenty-four years. The floor was itself solid sandstone, as was the dais in the middle of the burial chamber which bore the sarcophagus. It was a massive piece, about nine feet long and half as wide and high, and bedecked in gold and other precious materials.

Atop the sarcophagus, Pyrrha beheld the lone treasure to be found in the chamber: it was a circular bronze shield with a sharpened edge. Picking it up to examine the piece, she noticed the markings on the shield and instantly realised what they were.

"Hieroglyphs on a shield?! That … that's incredible! What do they say ..."

As her radiant illuminated the surface, the hieroglyphs etched onto the shield revealed its name.

"The Eye of Ra," Pyrrha read out carefully.

 _My word_ , Pyrrha reflected finally, _this is astounding! If only Monsieurs Baillet and Bénédite could've remained with me to see this._ In a moment of ignorance as she beheld the prize in her hands, Pyrrha stepped backwards onto a pressure plate, which promptly gave way under her weight. Losing her grip on the shield, she fell down suddenly into a five-foot deep chamber, which contained a nest of baby asps.

* * *

 _Of all the animals to run in to here_ , Pyrrha bemoaned as she rose to her feet, _why in blue blazes did it have to be these sodding snakes?_ After seeing time and time again what they did to people she'd worked with, Pyrrha firmly believed that there was a special place in hell reserved for snakes.

The asps, startled awake by the noise, reared up and prepared to strike their target. However, their predatory pause proved to be a fatal mistake, as Pyrrha reached behind her right shoulder, brought Milό, her huntress rifle, to bear, and fired. Twenty-two asps got cooked inside their own skins in three shots, and Pyrrha was out of there before the flames started coming for her. _Well_ , Pyrrha reflected as beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, _I'm glad as always that Father insisted on training me as a marksman as I grew up_.

Strictly speaking, Pyrrha was not a huntress by profession, and that meant her weapon wasn't built from scratch; instead, it was a Winchester 1887 which she and her local blacksmith had heavily modified. The rifle was now ram-rod straight, with a symmetrical bayonet added to the design and longer wood panels along the sides of the barrel. The lever-action reloading mechanism was removed, and a half-inch-thick steel hilt added in front of the trigger mechanism, which had been replaced by a twin-trigger design mounted on a pistol grip perpendicular to the main body.

The stock now housed the rifle's new firing mechanism. Instead of conventional munitions, the rifle was now capable of automatically firing thirty blasts of crimson Dust before reloading. This may have seemed a bit expensive to the neutral observer, but Pyrrha's line of work meant that she ran into Dust more often than one might have realised, and raw crystals themselves were used as the ammunition – as opposed to mere rounds laced with the powdered form of crimson Dust. This unique design feature enabled Pyrrha to defend herself against any kind of animal or bandit who dared assail her in the wild without suffering serious injury.

As she placed the shield in her sack and turned towards the exit, a sound of moving rubble drew her attention towards the hole. A pair of eight-foot long, adult asps rose from the depths and slithered in front of her. Their bodies were too thick to pierce with her Dust blasts, meaning that Pyrrha would have to get physical to escape. "Oh _bugger_ this," swore Pyrrha nastily. "I'm leaving, and you two bastards are in my way."

* * *

Pyrrha pressed and held down the rear trigger for a single second, then her weapon changed forms. The grip pivoted and locked into its slot on the main body, making the trigger guard into a handguard. The barrel telescoped inwards and the rifle's bayonet slid down to cover the barrel holes. Hidden machinery detached the stock (which Pyrrha caught and stuffed in her left pocket), and caused four long, case-hardened steel blade edges to emerge on converging angles from within the wood panels – thereby giving Pyrrha a long sword to use in close-quarters combat.

Without hesitation, Pyrrha moved as though she was duelling an arrow with a mind of its own, isolating and making quick work of the smaller of the two snakes. With her back turned, the larger of the two darted around his intended victim to see its mate get torn asunder vertically with a well-timed thrust. It noticed that her left arm was unarmed, and therefore moved across Pyrrha's line of vision and prepared to bite it. Pyrrha, however, had other ideas.

She hooked the stock back on, causing her weapon to transform into its gun form, and strapped it onto it's holster on her back. The beast moved forward to strike, aiming for her left hand. Pyrrha's right hand clutched to the handle of a short whip behind her back, rolled to miss the asp's strike, and coiled the whip around the beast's neck. The beast raged against the contraption as Pyrrha strangled the beast with it, holding both ends of the whip in her right hand as she retrieved her father's service revolver from her left boot. The beast hissed angrily before Pyrrha daintily blew it's supine brain all over the walls.

The larger asp's remains flopped downwards, and Pyrrha felt pleased with herself. Although her swordsmanship was homespun, it was good enough for her line of work; combined with her years of marksmanship, training and studies, Pyrrha's status as a daring, treasure-hunting archaeologist was undisputed and renowned throughout the upper echelons of European society.

"Well, that's enough of that; I'll take a kodak or two of the sarcophagus and the room, then leave before any other animals decide to seek me out."

And five minutes later, Pyrrha had adorned her face with the polarised glasses and left the tomb with the shield in her sack.

* * *

After returning to the ship at Luxor's dock, Pyrrha unloaded her supplies and shield in her single room. Never one for luxury or fashion despite her upper-class background, she changed her outfit for something more salubrious – and by "salubrious", she meant an unscathed version of her adventuring outfit, but with a tawny skirt that ended below the knee and a matching jacket.

Putting her travel case on the mantlepiece, Pyrrha opened it up to check for any damage sustained during the excursion, and found none. Although her travel case _did_ have cosmetic things within it's confines – namely, her brush, mirror, some lipstick and mascara – Pyrrha used its various containers to house her supplies of crimson and sienna dust, along with the fabrics and wires she used for making her SNC with.

Pyrrha's train ride from Cairo to Constantinople was uneventful, yet hot and drawn out. It would have been much easier to take a dirigible back to London, but English flights only extended as far south as Athens. Despite negotiations with various Arabic countries, their recalcitrance towards the new-fangled technology was ongoing, so Pyrrha was forced to take a longer course back home.

Upon arrival in Constantinople on the fifteenth of October, Pyrrha booked a train to Athens for the following day. While staying over, Pyrrha wrote a telegram to her employers in London's inner north, and had it sent at the train station upon her departure.

\- To Exham Museum (stop) - Have left the Valley of the Kings (stop) - Found bronze shield called "Eye of Ra" (stop) - Haul from Imhotep's tomb sent to England on the 24th (stop) - Should return with all the cargo on the 20th (stop) - Signed, Dr. Nikos (stop) -

* * *

The train to Athens was a much more scenic and enjoyable ride. Despite the fact that it had taken three more days to get to the nearest dirigible, Pyrrha always enjoyed travelling through the country her father's family hailed from, thereby giving her the chance to experience the warmth of the Greek autumn. As she disembarked at the Pireas district, Pyrrha took an hour to savour some Thessalonian lunch before walking to Athens Aerodrome next to the docks. Upon arriving with the shield at the Aerodrome, Pyrrha decided to enquire with the elderly customs officer about her cargo.

"Kaló apógevma! Boreís na milíseis angliká?"

"Yes I can, miss," the officer replied.

"Oh good. I'm Dr. Pyrrha Nikos of the Exham Museum. I sent through a crate filled with artifacts from Saqqara in Egypt, which were meant to go to London as soon as possible. Have these come through yet?"

"One moment; I'll retrieve my excise records."

The man bent down beneath his desk, then returned to flick through the previous week's records.

"Let me see here … ah yes, the shipment of Egyptian relics. They came through yesterday morning, and made it to London as requested before nightfall that day."

Pyrrha exhaled a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir. The Museum's set to open a new gallery devoted to Egypt with all of those relics within it, and my efforts over the last three months will finally pay off!"

The old officer smiled. "The best of success to you, Doctor Nikos! Have a pleasant flight!"

Pyrrha smiled back at him as she turned to board her flight home. "Thank you, kind sir. May your evening be enjoyable as well!" As Pyrrha sat down with her suitcase in hand, she took out her diary from a pocket in her jacket.

 _Dear diary_ , she wrote, _I'm finally returning home with my greatest haul yet. Not only did I discover the tomb of Imhotep – quite a coup de grace for my profession – but I also found an immaculate shield called the Eye of Ra. I'm already imagining the shield taking pride of place in the main room of the exhibit when it gets set up. It feels as though it's a good luck charm for me, honestly. I'll write again once the exhibit's grand opening takes place. Much love, Pyrrha._

However, in her haste to leave the tomb in the first place, Pyrrha failed to properly examine the shield she had picked up. If she actually had taken a minute or two to do so, then her "good luck charm" might have never left the chamber with her.

* * *

Five days after Pyrrha left, a gaunt woman made her way to the very same temple. In true Western tradition, Pyrrha was not the first to find that part of the Valley of the Kings. A reclusive tribe of Egyptians had taken residence in a cave underneath the temple thousands of years ago, which was accessible only through a small inlet from the Nile.

At the stroke of midday, the lone figure ascended the ladder to the main burial chamber. The woman was an albino Egyptian of indeterminate age and average height, her blood-flecked eyes offsetting her voluminous white hair, bedecked with small ornaments.

As she opened a false wall and strode out, she noticed _instantly_ that the Eye of Ra had been removed from its place, and that a small newspaper clipping with the words "London Egyptian Gallery Plan Approved" had been left on the floor. The woman, who had learned to read and speak English after helping rescue a lost traveller, seethed with a slow-burning anger, and she quickly assumed the perpetrator of the crime.

Returning to the cave, the rest of the tribe greeted her. "Did the Eye get blessed properly, Seer?", enquired the village elder.

The albino looked up to him. "The traitor has stolen the Eye of Ra and fled to some place called 'London'. I must go to this 'London' place and find it before she causes havoc with it."

The tribe were summarily stunned into silence for a full minute as this sunk in. Finally, the elder spoke up.

"You may go to find the Eye. Kill the wielder if you must. If you find it on someone of benign character or with ignorance of the true power of the Eye, then explain our story to them and convince them to return it."

The albino nodded. "I shall go, and I will use some of our old relics to barter for transportation in Luxor."

The elder grimaced as he handed her a handful of uncommon pieces of ancient jewellery. "I hope this will be enough, Seer."

The woman examined the items carefully, then replied as she left. "It should be sufficient."

* * *

 **A/N: As the perceptive of you have realised by now, this is a story set in the Belladonna Lilies AU. My thanks go to DezoPenguin for allowing the use of his AU for this piece of work.**

 **For the record, this fic's title is supposed to mean "Bronze Idols", and the chapter's title is meant to read "Valley of the Kings". Feel free to correct me if I happen to be wrong about the Latin translations; I will correct them if the need arises.**

 **Update: I've decided to create a kind of psuedo-soundtrack for this work. This chapter's song is "Eye In The Sky" by the Alan Parsons Project, a fitting song for the albino woman's mindset at this point.**

 **Due to my authorship of Goodbellas, the length between updates of this fic may vary. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this :)**


	2. Nox Ad Museum

Chapter Two: Nox Ad Museum

Sunday, the 13th of October, 1889.

Luxor's bazaar swayed in the desert winds at ten in the morning. A sandal-wearing woman strode towards the antiques dealer, garbed in a purple kalasiris and matching hooded cloak.

"Good morning, madam. How can I help you?"

The woman held out her pale right hand, which had six ancient necklaces clasped within it.

"I need to barter these for enough funds to get to London."

The merchant took the pieces from her and examined them, and realised that only two of the necklaces were needed for the task.

"Madam, you will only need to sell the two least of these to achieve that. One for the boat fares, the other for food and accommodation while you're there."

The woman nodded, handing the merchant the two least sentimental necklaces. He counted out the assorted money she needed, and handed it all over.

"There's 40 Egyptian pounds for a boat to Alexandria, 70 English pounds for the boat to London, and 50 more English pounds for expenses. The next boat to Alexandria leaves in half an hour, and it will take four days to head there. Afterwards, seek out the docks and find a boat that will take you to London. Safe travels and good luck, madam."

A pair of red eyes looked up at the merchant. "My thanks, sir."

As the albino walked towards the Luxor docks with her newly-gained fortune in hand, she spotted a younger local boy walking towards her with an apprehensive expression.

"Excuse me, are you seeking the one who has the Eye of Ra?"

The albino froze, then glared at him.

"How do you know of this, stranger?"

"I spotted a strangely-dressed woman with a golden shield boarding a ship six days ago. I tried to stow away, but I was thrown off before they left. Two days later, another strangely-dressed woman came up to the docks and asked if anyone had seen a golden shield. I told her I had, and she said it was the Eye of Ra. She then asked me to tell a white-skinned woman with red eyes where the Eye is going."

 _That_ grabbed the albino's attention.

"Fortune has truly blessed me. Where is the traitor placing it?"

"A place called 'Exham Museum'."

The albino's expression shifted from neutral to downright bestial. She damned well knew who else had gone there.

"Thank you," was her low-voiced reply as she walked towards the boat.

* * *

Saturday, the 19th of October, 1889.

A cool night greeted Pyrrha as her dirigible arrived in London. Flying over the Thames with a light shower permeating the air, Pyrrha couldn't help but notice something out of the ordinary as she flew past Rotherhithe on the way to Croydon Airport. Another dirigible seemed to have crashed violently into the Thames.

"Well," Pyrrha said to herself, "I'll hear all about _that_ in the Sunday papers."

And hear about it, she did. " **Phantom Gentleman Caught!** Society Figure Arrested by Scotland Yard as Notorious Thief!", read the headline on the Daily Standard the next morning. Pyrrha, having awoken at seven, ran off to fetch the Standard from the vendor near her townhouse in Kensington. As she walked back onto her street, she found a familiar face walking towards her home in a more conservative outfit. She ran to her at full sprint and enthusiastically greeted her.

"Coco! It's so good you see you again!"

Pyrrha's French neighbour and housekeeper turned around with a smile on her face, and hugged her.

"Pyrrha, it's been far too long. How have you been, huh?"

Pyrrha smiled; seeing her closest friend after three months in the wilderness had put a spring in her step, and she responded as they walked into her house.

"I've been quite well, Coco. How about yourself – _is that an engagement ring?!_ "

The Parisian beamed at her.

"Of course, _cher_. Fox proposed to me almost a month ago."

After taking this in, Pyrrha smirked at her.

"You _sly devil_ , Coco! Marrying my accountant so he can help you escape your class _and_ my employ?! I approve whole-heartedly!"

Coco laughed sweetly as Pyrrha took a seat in the dining room. The main reason why the pair had been friends since Coco arrived five years ago was that both of them held little regard for what the aristocratic class considered to be time-honoured and rigid codes of conduct. Though Pyrrha was part of that caste and Coco was set to become one step away from it, they found solace in sending up every contrived and snooty part of Victorian society they found to be beneath them. Not that either of them admitted as much to anyone else, of course.

* * *

"So how is Fox holding up, Coco?"

Coco's face lit up the room at the mention of her lover's wellbeing.

"He's going swimmingly, actually. His grey-scale vision problem got cured two months ago."

Pyrrha almost fell off her chair in surprise at this.

"How on Earth did that happen, Coco?!"

"One of the bright sparks in the employ of the Schnees was experimenting with using different Dust types to polarise lenses. By sheer happenstance, he found a secret mixture which made the unpolarised lens increase the strength of the colours filtered through it by fourfold. Apparently, when he donned the lenses, they made his vision appear as though he was stuck in a Claude Monet painting."

Pyrrha laughed heartily at this; as much as she loved Impressionist art since the exhibition she visited when holidaying in Paris in 1886, she always felt that Monet's work was inordinately bright for her tastes.

"Surely that wasn't the end of the story, was it?"

Coco chuckled. "Of course it wasn't, _cher_. As it turned out, the inventor was so amused with what he called 'Impressionist Lenses' that he cajoled a colleague to look through them."

"Let me guess; this colleague also saw things in grey-scale?"

"Indeed he did. The man realised that he could see colours normally with the glasses on, and that's the story."

Pyrrha, ever the avid fan of new technology, was enraptured by this innovation.

"Tell me, are they able to cure colour-blindness of the normal variety now?"

"I believe so, Pyrrha. When Fox last heard from the man who sold him the glasses, he told him the SDC had made prototypes for both the blue-green and red-green deficiencies, although solving the blue-red is said to be more problematic."

* * *

"Well," replied Pyrrha as Coco rose to prepare some tea and toast, "it's a step in the right direction."

"Indeed it is, Pyrrha. So how come you had to stay an extra month in the desert?"

"It's a bit of a long story, Coco. You might want to sit down for it."

"OK, _cher_. I'll sit down to hear it once breakfast is up."

Coco filled and fired up Pyrrha's brand new toaster and kettle. Two more marvels of the Dust trade, they both used filaments lined with crimson Dust powder to heat their respective charges, and the length one wanted to use the toaster for was adjusted with an integrated egg timer. And both of these were powered by the use of a verdant Dust generator, which enabled Pyrrha to power her townhouse's appliances and lights using one verdant crystal a month – meaning that she wasn't reliant on the inefficient crimson Dust plants that powered the masses.

When the toaster ejected four slices of browned wholemeal and the kettle whistled, Pyrrha assisted her cook by bringing out the apricot jam and butter from the pantry, leaving Coco to prepare two cups of Irish breakfast with milk and none. As the bread and tea was divided between the two women, their conversation resumed.

"So Pyrrha, what were you going to say about your longer stay?"

Pyrrha looked to be somewhat puzzled.

"Honestly, I don't know why I had to go to the Valley. After the haul from Imhotep's tomb beneath Saqqara, I was surprised to receive a wire from Exham about visiting the Valley of the Kings and search for a tomb east of Hatshepsut – even though I'd gone there the previous year with Baillet and Bénédite's expedition."

"Was it too much of an inconvenience for you, _mon cher_?"

"Not really; I'd already planned to go for a cruise along the Nile to Luxor after I was done at Saqqara."

"That's fortunate. Hopefully, your discovery of Tetesheri's tomb wasn't a waste of time?"

Pyrrha smiled again. "Not in the slightest; even though the temple was empty for the most part, the sarcophagus was still there. When I approached it, I located an surprisingly untarnished bronze shield with a sharpened edge resting on top of it. There were hieroglyphs etched on the surface which revealed its name to me – the Eye of Ra. It will make a brilliant addition to the new gallery."

"After that _vivid_ description, it had better be; it sounds shinier than your ego."

The two women exchanged looks, then broke into laughter again.

* * *

Tuesday, the 29th of October, 1889.

The Exham Museum of Antiquity was one of the three landmarks that marked the northern boundary of the Regent's Park, filling the gap between the London Zoo and the Winfield House Gardens in that part of London's inner north. At a quarter to seven on a tepid autumn evening, about four-hundred people were gathering at the Museum, coming from many walks of life. It was arguably the biggest night on the year's social calender – at least, after Weiss Schnee's birthday ball on the 11th, and definitely the most inclusive.

Pyrrha had spent most of the preceding week organising and listing her finds throughout the exhibit in Exham's eastern wing, employing a relentless zeal about her task that went unmatched in the museum. After her herculean efforts, what was set to be the crowning moment of her life was finally ready to commence. Presently, Pyrrha was sequestered behind curtains that separated the eastern lobby from the main exhibition. A small glass of brandy took residence in her left hand; it wasn't enough to grant intoxication to Pyrrha, the infamously cheap drunk, but enough to steady the nerves of Doctor Nikos, the archaeologist.

A speedy glimpse from behind the curtains revealed the clientele amongst the crowd. Pyrrha recognised Weiss Schnee, perhaps the wealthiest of the attendees, along with a number of minor nobles who were likely trying to suck up to her throughout the night. She also noticed a number of her Egyptology and archaeology colleagues who'd also joined the Royal Society, which wasn't unexpected. There were plenty of middle-class types present as well, having heard about the find from the papers and opting to come out of curiosity. At the stroke of seven, Pyrrha's assistant walked out to the lectern in the middle of the foyer and called the crowd to order.

"Good evening, London. I'm here to introduce to you the woman of the hour. Over the last three months, she has painstakingly excavated the long-lost tomb of Imhotep in Saqqara, finally providing us here at Exham an opportunity to showcase things which have never been beheld by anyone since they were placed in that tomb. The good doctor has brought us the personal effects and treasures contained within Imhotep's burial chamber, along with kodaks of the various hieroglyphs contained within the walls, and all manner of ancient pottery and weaponry. Give a round of applause for adventurer, scholar and archaeologist extraordinare, Dr. Pyrrha Nikos!"

The curtains drew aside to great applause, and Dr. Pyrrha Nikos strode out in the only piece of formal clothing she'd ever deigned to wear in her workplace; her maroon hunting costume with red accents. This consisted of an ankle-length skirt, a long sleeved jacket which went up to her neck and flared past her hips, as well as her best riding boots and a white shirtwaist. Forgoing a hat, Pyrrha had elected instead to sweep her mane up into a knot, and leave her fringe where it usually framed her face. She completed herself with her favourite pieces of jewellery – a pair of bronze earrings, with small emeralds hanging from both of them.

If Pyrrha wasn't giving the lecture that night, then she'd have likely been laughed out of the museum without a moment's hesitation by the hounds of fine society. However, her reputation and extensive accomplishments were enough to make the well-bred cope with her decided disregard for fashion conventions. As Weiss Schnee remarked to her father later that night, "The good doctor's appearance seemed to strike a balance between her profession and class, I must say. It was perfect for the occasion, but I dare say others would have seen it as ridiculous at any other time."

"Ladies and gentlemen, and fellow members of the Royal Society," Pyrrha began, "it is my greatest pleasure to bid you all welcome to the brand new Egyptian Gallery here at Exham Museum."

The applause was instant, and lasted ten seconds. The lights dimmed as Pyrrha's assistant fired up the overhead projector and loaded in the first of many kodaks for Pyrrha to talk about.

"Where shall I begin … "

* * *

Forty-six minutes later, Pyrrha had finished the presentation to a standing ovation. After receiving thanks from her peers, Pyrrha went through the motions of taking adulation from a cordially ignorant crowd. Pyrrha _always_ found it hard to talk shop with those amongst the rich who'd studied classics; they shared some of her knowledge, but they lacked the near-artistic passion that she had for the field of study; consequently, they tended to ask Pyrrha rehashed questions about well-researched topics or say glib statements about the field at large.

Fortunately for them, the well-bred never caught on to Pyrrha's frustration because she, by default, was too polite for her own good. As such, the only genuine displays of passionate admiration that Pyrrha noticed from the gentry _outside_ her profession came from three surprising sources.

Weiss Schnee seemed genuinely interested in the exhibit, which wasn't surprising given her education. What struck Pyrrha about Weiss was that, despite the heiress's interests ostensibly laying in the fields of business and technology, she had genuinely made an effort to _listen_ to her and enquired about the technologies and ideas that helped her achieve what she'd done. After Weiss walked off to take a gander at the exhibit, Pyrrha felt a certain amount of peace come over her from that interaction. That feeling didn't last long, as the other two genuine admirers were even more surprising in their nature.

A dark-red haired girl, no older than nineteen in Pyrrha's eyes, was staring wide-eyed at the ancient scythe down the first passageway on the right, and had indeed started to drool at the simplest weapon of all the gallery when Pyrrha approached. She was dressed in the newest fashion that had been concocted for the elite; a floor-length crimson evening gown which fastened at the back and lacked a bustle, with matching gloves a black fur stole draped over the shoulders for good measure. The young girl looked every inch the perfect airhead, at least in the jade eyes of Dr. Nikos. Then the girl snapped out of it, ran up to Pyrrha in a rush, and started gushing about how cool the exhibit was.

Pyrrha had never heard anyone talk so quickly in her life. In fact, she'd only managed to clearly catch the girl's name: Ruby Rose. Despite her excitability having sped up her speech to comical levels, the young woman's palpable sense of wide-eyed wonder reminded Pyrrha of herself at a younger age, and she smiled and thanked the younger girl for her enthusiasm.

As Ruby scurried off throughout the exhibit, Pyrrha recognised a familiar face gazing at the kodak of Imhotep's sarcophagus; it was the young policeman who managed to bust the Phantom Gentleman the day she arrived back home. As she walked towards him, she noticed his features. The man looked strong in a wiry kind of way, but his face and blonde hair were both quite boyish, which Pyrrha realised she found attra- _endearing_.

* * *

"Inspector Arc?"

The man turned to face her with a slightly startled expression, which instantly shifted to one of happy recognition.

"Oh, er, greetings, Doctor Nikos. That expedition must have been quite the experience, I must say. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Pyrrha smiled slightly as his earnestness tickled her ego.

"Well, I recognised you as the dashing young officer who managed to arrest Roman Torchwick. I hadn't spent a day in London before the press started raving about you, so I just thought I'd greet you in person."

Jaune started smiling bashfully at the floor about halfway through that sentence, and Pyrrha realised too late that the phrase _dashing young officer_ probably gave him a certain idea of what she thought of him. He looked back toward her shyly while he responded.

"Well, I guess my reputation precedes me yet again. Though I must admit, such admiration feels pleasant coming from you, doctor."

To Jaune's eternal surprise, Pyrrha blushed instantly, and managed to look even _more_ bashful than Jaune did half a minute ago. But before the conversation started to get awkward, Ruby appeared out of nowhere next to Jaune. Pyrrha realised that a "diving boot" cast was on Ruby's right foot, and bandages lay beneath the glove on her right arm. _What had she done to_ _herself?_ , Pyrrha wondered.

"Well, I'm ready to head back home whenever you're ready, Jaune."

Jaune turned to face the newcomer with a slightly miffed expression.

"Very well."

Jaune turned his gaze to Pyrrha, smiled warmly and handed her his business card.

"Well, if you've ever got a problem, feel free to call me, Doctor Nikos. Have a pleasant evening!"

"And the same to you, Inspector," Pyrrha replied effusively. As Jaune and his companion walked off, Pyrrha tried to calm down a few notches. _Lord Almighty,_ Pyrrha wondered, _I've never felt so worked up around a man before … or around anyone, come to think of it_. _What the deuce_ _was it about him that got me_ _blushing_ _?_

* * *

"Hot and bothered, are we?"

Pyrrha relaxed, upon hearing her employer's aristocratic bass voice.

"I assure you that I'm fine, sir."

Turning to make eye contact, Pyrrha beheld her greatest advocate. Dr. Arthur Watts was the head curator at Exham, and Pyrrha's mentor in the archaeology and exploration scene. His expensive black bespoke suit was accented by a yellow dress shirt and cordovan waistcoat, equally luxurious as his moustache. The older doctor smiled, and opted to keep embarrassing his protégé.

"Are you sure, Pyrrha? I mean, it's not everyday you find yourself talking to someone who tickles your fancy."

Pyrrha's flustered expression began to reassert itself, before she managed to resist the bait and regained her composure.

"Well, Arthur, since you're here, would you like to look at something I've yet to reveal to the public?"

The man's right eyebrow raised up.

"An upcoming display no-one else has seen yet?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "Well, no-one aside from my assistant, who saw it just before the presentation."

Watts chuckled. "All right then, but I'd like exclusive access next time."

Pyrrha returned the chuckle as she led Watts into her private office towards the rear of the east wing.

Under usual conditions, Pyrrha's desk was best described as "an organised mess". Especially since she had a habit of cleaning and maintaining Milo on it when she wasn't burdened with cataloguing and suchlike. Today though, the Eye of Ra took pride of place in the middle of the desk, shrouded by a cloth.

"This is something I found from a tomb in the Valley of the Kings after I was finished at Saqqara."

"The Valley of the Kings?!" Watts asked sharply. "Why on Earth did you go there for?"

Pyrrha looked puzzled at this.

"I meant to ask about this when I came back, but I received a wire from you asking me to go there, Arthur. I've got it right here."

She fished out the wire from her desk's left drawer and handed it to Watts.

"Let me see," he said as he put on his glasses. He read it silently for a full minute, and Pyrrha swore that the room was starting to get colder with each passing second. Finally, Watts looked back up at her.

"Well, I know I didn't write or send it, but this _is_ legitimate. Very strange, indeed. Anyway, what did you find in this tomb?"

Pyrrha lifted off the covers, and Watts found himself staring at his reflection in bronze.

"From Tetesheri's tomb, behold: the Eye of Ra!"

* * *

The initial reaction Watts gave off was not the one Pyrrha had hoped for. His mouth remembered to smile eagerly, but it didn't extend to his eyes. They had reflexively widened in recognition – but what they were recognising, Pyrrha did not know. Nevertheless, Watts quickly mustered his composure and let his face fall into a warm smile.

"Pyrrha, even though this shield wasn't something we were expecting to get, I'm pleased with your efforts in locating yet another tomb in the Valley and bringing back a priceless artifact. To say naught, of course, of the magnificent work you did with the tomb of Imhotep."

Pyrrha blushed again. "Thanks, Arthur. I'm really glad to have provided for Exham as much as it's provided for me the last five years. I hope I've pleased you."

Watts's expression shifted to one that could be best described as "fatherly pride".

"Pyrrha, ever since your father showed me your scholastic achievements and bragged of your enthusiasm for this field, I've _always_ been pleased with you!" He and Pyrrha hugged each other, then decided to walk outside.

As the pair walked out to the main hall, they both failed to notice a raven-haired woman with a bow around a corner, looking reverently at a magnified kodak of some hieroglyphs from Saqqara. Specifially, the ones which showed the ancient Egyptian practice of worshipping cats. After writing something down in her notebook, she walked around the corner and into a smirking Weiss Schnee.

"Getting ideas on why I should get on my knees for you?"

The dark-haired girl held her nerve in the face of such blatant innuendo, and duly sealed her victory for this round of snark-to-snark combat.

"What can I say; we were _clearly_ born in the wrong century."

* * *

Pyrrha awoke at eight the next morning to the smell of Coco cooking bacon and eggs. She walked out of her second-floor bedroom, and shrugged off sleep by means of a hot shower in her bathroom. After drying off, she set her hair with the use her hair-dryer (yet _another_ crimson-Dust appliance), sweeping it back this time and hiding her scalp underneath her brown fedora. Pyrrha then donned her usual work clothes – which consisted of a brown tweed jacket, a matching ankle-length skirt, white dress shirt, and her usual riding boots.

As she moved to the ground floor, Coco was waiting at the dining table with breakfast waiting and the Morning Star in her hand.

"You wouldn't believe it, _cher_ ," said Coco as Pyrrha started to eat, "but the Morning Star wrote a glowing piece about you."

"They did?!"

"Yes; the reporter was most praiseworthy of your efforts, likening you to William Flinders Petrie himself."

Pyrrha gasped; the man had practically _invented_ modern archaeology, so being likened to _him_ was quite the compliment.

"May I see the article in question?"

"Sure thing, Pyrrha."

Coco handed Pyrrha the newspaper, and she read silently as she ate.

"It was a curious crowd of archaeologists, socialites and everyday people that attended the opening of Exham Museum's new Egyptian gallery yesterday evening. All in all, four hundred people turned out to marvel at the finds of Exham's star archaeologist, Dr. Pyrrha Nikos. The presentation did not disappoint, with the renowned doctor spending the best part of an hour providing a running commentary on her expedition to the distant city of Saqqara, while it was illustrated with some of her kodaks fed through an overhead projector. The doctor's passion for her work shone through as clearly as daylight, and her efforts were arguably on par with William Flinders Petrie himself. Blake Belladonna, London."

Pyrrha's curious expression changed to surprise.

"Blake Belladonna was there last night? How come that crime-beat writer was reporting on the gallery?"

Coco shrugged. "I don't know; maybe the Police Gazette came empty this week?"

The resultant fit of laughter from Pyrrha was crudely interrupted by the sound of her telephone. Pyrrha rushed over to its place in the parlour on her house's left side.

"Hello, Dr. Pyrrha Nikos speaking … **_WHAT?!_** "

* * *

 **A/N: First up, did any Ben Stiller fans in the audience get the chapter title reference? (Update: It was Night At The Museum, for those who were wondering).**

 **Secondly, I couldn't believe my eyes when I learned that the fedora, when first invented in 1882 as a costume piece in a play, was quickly adopted as a symbol for women's rights throughout Europe and America - and all due to the lead actress being a notorious cross-dresser who insisted on wearing it when on stage.**

 **Thirdly, I decided that Pyrrha, given the idea of her being a gender-flipped Indiana Jones (complete with hatred of snakes), shouldn't have much care for social convention. On paper, that would've clashed somewhat with her nice and polite character in-series, so I've opted to go with the idea that Pyrrha does play by the rules when she has to; otherwise, she'll do things her own way.**

 **And last, the soundtrack song I've settled on for this chapter is "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin; a fitting song for a night of story-telling, I'd thought. Anyway, I hope you've all enjoyed the chapter.**

 **EDIT: Owing to the review that DezoPenguin left, I decided to clarify Ruby's state at this point in time; here, she's able to walk and move around, but combat won't be on the cards for a while.**


	3. A Purpura In Studium

Chapter Three: A Purpura In Studium

Wednesday, the 30th of October, 1889.

Coco almost dropped her cup at the startling sound of Pyrrha's scream. _Merde_ , thought Coco as she ran to the parlour, _that_ _must've_ _blown the eardrum of the poor man calling her_. She entered the parlour and helped Pyrrha to her feet. She was sprawled on the floor and had broken down in tears.

" _Mon cher_ , what happened?"

Pyrrha turned to face her, tears still streaming from behind her glasses.

"Arthur Watts has been found murdered; his butler found him just now and let me know."

Coco looked _aghast_ at this development; the man had always been a polite and witty house guest.

"Is there anything I can do, Pyrrha?"

After a second's pause, Pyrrha's wits kicked in.

"Ring Exham and let my assistant know what's happened, and that I'll likely come in later on today, if at all."

"Sure thing, _cher_ ; I'll get onto it now."

As Coco picked up the telephone, Pyrrha retrieved some tissues and dried her eyes. As she did so, she remembered that Inspector Arc had given her his business card last night. _Even though he wasn't too subtle about his intent_ , Pyrrha noted as she went upstairs to retrieve it, _I'm actually grateful he thought highly enough about me to give me his telephone number_. Finding it in her bedroom, Pyrrha made her way downstairs again as Coco was finishing up on the phone.

"Pyrrha, I've told your assistant the news. She'll cover for you at the museum until you decide to head in."

"My thanks, Coco. I'm now going to ring someone who can help with the investigation."

Coco left to take the breakfast things for washing inside the kitchen while Pyrrha picked up the receiver and rang Jaune's office.

Jaune had barely made it to the floor he worked in at Scotland Yard when he heard his phone go off. Cursing his luck, Jaune ran full pelt to his desk and picked up the phone just before it would've stopped ringing.

"You've reached Scotland Yard, Inspector Jaune Arc speaking."

"Inspector, it's Dr. Pyrrha Nikos. Something terrible has happened; Exham's head curator was found murdered this morning."

Jaune blinked, then got his wits into gear.

"I'm on my way, doctor; where does he live?"

* * *

The townhouse Watts lived in was located in Fulham, equidistant between Pyrrha's home and the north bank of the Thames. Pyrrha had taken the District Railway tube from Kensington High Street to Walham Green, arriving twenty minutes after she'd called Jaune. Making her way out of the tube station, Pyrrha moved with all due haste down the south side of Fulham Road until she saw the police cars parked outside her mentor's residence.

Jaune, who'd just finished securing the area, moved to enter the property and start his investigation, but his peripheral vision caught onto Pyrrha and steered his gaze towards a woman who was _barely_ holding it together. Jaune looked ashen-faced at Pyrrha's state, and ran over with a tissue as she started tearing up again.

"My condolences, Dr. Nikos."

Pyrrha took the tissue and dried her face.

"T-thank you, Inspector. What have you learned thus far?"

"Well, Watts and his study are presently being kodaked and examined by the forensics men, so we'll learn later about what injuries he suffered. However, I've spotted already that the lock wasn't forced open, so we can tell that Watts knew the attacker."

Pyrrha nodded. "And what of his butler?"

"I was just getting ready to interview him when you came, so we may as well do that now, I guess."

Jaune led Pyrrha through the house, taking care to close the door to the study where Watts had been felled. Entering the back garden, Jaune beheld a sight he'd never seen before. Staring towards the Thames was the tallest man that either Jaune or Pyrrha had ever laid eyes on. He turned to face them, a stoic expression adorning his Japanese features. Jaune shook himself and set to work, motioning for both Pyrrha and the butler to sit down with him in the back garden.

"Mr. Daichi, correct?"

The giant nodded. "Yes. Feel free to call me Yatsuhashi," he rumbled in accented tones.

"I'm Inspector Jaune Arc, and I'm leading the investigation. Of course, you already know Dr. Pyrrha Nikos, whom you alerted first."

He nodded, and Jaune continued. "When did you find the body of Doctor Arthur Watts?"

"At the stroke of eight-thirty this morning sir; I'd just arrived when I caught the smell."

"So, what happened after Dr. Watts arrived home last night?"

* * *

Yatsuhashi concentrated as his memory kicked into gear. "To be honest, I don't know. I was actually given a night off, but I didn't take my leave until twenty to nine, when the cab arrived."

"How come you were out at that time?"

"My parents are presently visiting England during a cruise they're taking, and they're not due to leave until next week, when their ship returns to Osaka. They came here at half past five that afternoon, and asked if I was available to journey with them to visit and stay with my uncle that night."

"Where does your uncle live?"

"He runs a bed-and-breakfast in Hampstead. I'll give you the address and phone number if you wish to talk to him or my parents."

"That would be good," agreed Jaune, as Yatsuhashi handed him the relevant business card. Pyrrha then decided to ask the butler a question.

"Did you get to see Watts before you left?"

"Only three times that day, doctor. The first was during breakfast, where he seemed his usual self. The second occasion was when he returned briefly at six to get ready for the exhibition, that wasn't out of the ordinary. The third time, however, his behaviour was a little suspicious."

"How so?", Jaune enquired.

"He came back about half past eight that night, greeted my parents briefly, and then went into his study muttering to himself. When I walked into his study to offer him a drink before I left, he was saying something like 'The Eye's curse is coming'."

This rang alarms in Pyrrha's mind about Watts's reaction to the shield. Before she could respond though, Jaune pressed the matter a bit further.

"And you didn't see fit to ask him about this because … ?"

"I took my leave immediately afterwards, because I'd heard the cab approaching the front gate."

Jaune nodded as he marked that point down. "Alright, sounds reasonable. Just one question left, Yatsuhashi; did you see anyone else approach the house that night?"

* * *

A light went off in the giant's brain. "Yes, actually, I did. As we were leaving on the cab to King's Cross station, I saw two people in black dress and strange white masks approach Watts's front gate. One was thin and quite short, and the other was muscular and roughly up to my shoulder. I couldn't tell what genders they were, though."

Only Pyrrha noticed the brief flare of recognition in Jaune's eyes, before he nodded and put away his notebook.

"Very well, Yatsuhashi. I'll get one of my men to contact your kin to confirm your whereabouts the previous night. Until then, it'll serve your interests best if you stayed here for now."

The giant nodded; he knew the police were being thorough investigators.

"Constable Burns?", Jaune called out.

"Yes sir?", replied the grizzled officer as he ran over.

"Call this number," Jaune instructed as he handed over the hotel card, "and ask the proprietor about the whereabouts of Yatsuhashi Daichi during the previous night. Once you get an answer, let me know."

Burns saluted. "Will do, sir."

As both men walked inside, Pyrrha motioned for Jaune to stay outside with her.

* * *

"Jaune, did that description remind you of anything?"

Jaune nodded resignedly. "If I'm not mistaken, we're not entirely done with the Grimm yet."

Pyrrha looked non-plussed at this response. "The who?"

Jaune was about to brusquely enquire if Pyrrha lived under a rock, before he remembered that she'd been in Egypt digging them up for three months.

"They were a very audacious group of assassins, and they're known for targeting Weiss Schnee during a masquerade at the Clockwork Pavilion earlier this month. They tried to kill her by means of blowing the place up – which they didn't completely achieve, of course – and caused terrible damage and carnage in the process."

Pyrrha looked at him in horrified amazement. "They were brazen enough to do _that_? How _ever_ did they evade detection after such a stunt?"

Jaune shrugged. "What ever they did, it wasn't enough. Their headquarters was at the Tenebrae Club on St. James's Street, which exploded due to a gas leak shortly before I caught the Phantom Gentleman. As far as we knew, the remaining Grimm had blown up inside it."

Pyrrha's features fell into a suspicious expression as she took this in.

"Well if that's the case, how come there seem to be survivors amongst the Grimm, going around killing whomever they please?"

"I honestly do not know. By the way, you tensed up when the 'Eye is cursed' bit came up. Was there a reason for that?"

* * *

Pyrrha blanched, then leant over so only Jaune could hear her whisper.

"Last night, after my presentation, I showed Dr. Watts something I was supposed to be unveiling today at the museum; currently, it's stashed in my upgraded safe. It's a bronze shield with hieroglyphs on it called "The Eye of Ra". When I showed it to Watts that night, his initial reaction was a smile that spared his eyes; they'd steeled themselves in recognition. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd have said he knew about the shield before I found it – and _that_ doesn't make sense to me."

Jaune nodded. "Me neither, doctor. And do you think this so-called curse is something he genuinely believed in?"

"Well, if Yatsuhashi's account was accurate, then it's likely he did. But then again, he was a godless man through and through, and I've _never_ known him to be superstitious at all."

Pyrrha leaned her head onto her left hand in frustration; like she was massaging a bruise on her forehead.

"This just isn't making any sense; why did this awful business have to happen?!"

Jaune felt a strong rush of empathy overcome him. _Poor woman_ , he ruminated; _she clearly had an excellent mentor and friend in Dr. Watts, and he's now been cruelly taken from her. Even though it isn't my place, I really should try to comfort her as best I can throughout this._ He reached out and patted her on the shoulder. She glanced upwards at a grim, yet determined smile on Jaune's face.

"Fear not, Pyrrha. We'll find the ones who did this and bring them to justice."

For the first time that day, Pyrrha managed a smile, albeit with pain in her eyes. _That's the first time anyone outside work or family's referred to me as Pyrrha without prompting_ , she realised; _even Coco needs to be reminded to drop formalities occasionally these days. Inspector Arc's really trying to look out for me, isn't he?_ At that moment, Constable Burns returned.

"Inspector!"

* * *

Jaune withdrew his hand sharply and stood up. "You managed to get through to the Daichi family?"

The beat cop nodded. "That I did sir; the family have corroborated Yatsuhashi's story."

Jaune nodded encouragingly. "Good to hear. Now, have the forensics men finished their business?"

"Yes sir; they're merely waiting for the ambulance to arrive. You may enter."

Jaune and Pyrrha walked into the town house, and this time entered the study. Watts's body was covered in a white sheet on a stretcher, and the bloodstains had just finished getting removed by the lead forensic examiner. He was lanky, spiky-haired, and slightly dishevelled.

"Find anything unusual about the scene, Doctor Oobleck?"

"Asides from the blood-stains and corpse," the Scotsman started, "the only thing out of the ordinary, Inspector is that the room wasn't very disturbed at all. Only one drawer was open – according to the butler, it was were the late doctor kept his diary."

Pyrrha and Jaune were surprised at this revelation; there were plenty of valuables to take from this house and _none_ of them were missing.

"They took his diary?", Jaune asked incredulously. "Why on Earth would a pair of anarchistic cads want a _diary_?"

"If there was something specific placed inside it, perhaps?" Pyrrha suggested.

Jaune gave the suggestion some thought. "You might be right, Pyrrha. But what would he have placed inside his diary?"

"I can answer that for you." The three of them looked towards Yatsuhashi. "It didn't seem important at the time, but I noticed when approaching him that he'd put his presentation ticket within the diary."

The pair looked at each other and nodded.

"They're after the Eye of Ra, aren't they Pyrrha?"

"We'd better get to the museum, and quickly."

* * *

The last sixteen hours had been a sordid affair for Lie Ren. This largely hinged on the fact that the person he was sent to meet the previous night had been murdered before he arrived. To put it simply, the Chinese man despised the act of killing. It was an odd attitude for a member of what had been the single most dangerous assassin's guild in all of London – the Creatures of Grimm.

However, the Grimm weren't always assassins for hire; Ren himself had joined what was an ordinary mercenary company, after his flat feet kept him from joining the English military. Then the leadership changed, and the company with it.

Discovering the murdered corpse of Dr. Watts wasn't a welcome experience to Ren's partner as well, although his reasons were a little more macabre.

"It should have been me who snuffed him out."

Ren shot his cohort a dirty look. "Enough with that talk, mystic. His death was only meant to be a last resort if he attacked us first; we both know that."

The mystic scoffed arrogantly, as he paced around the abandoned flat they were hiding in near Croydon Airport.

"When my leader tells us he wants somebody silenced, then that's what he usually means."

Ren's patient demeanour started to crack.

"Listen; we've got no idea who got to him. Keep quiet, and wait until our comrade returns with news."

Ren sat down and started to clean his pair of modified green Reichsrevolver pistols that he'd called Stormflower, after the manor he'd lived in prior to migrating as a young man. The name also stemmed from the ammunition he built for his guns, which were compressed verdant Dust crystal rounds. He could fire through eight full rotations of the revolver's six-chambered magazine before needing to reload, meaning that he could afford to be economical with the Dust he used.

Although only allowing for half the stopping power of crimson Dust, such was Ren's rate of fire that a short burst of lightning bullets served him as well as his main weapons – the throwing daggers that he'd trained with extensively as a youngster.

* * *

A long series of knocks drew Ren's attention as he finished cleaning his revolvers. He answered the door, and beheld a young woman in the same black garb that he and his partner had donned. "Boys, I've retrieved some things from the doctor's office; our leader asked me to deliver them to you personally. Until we meet again, don't draw any attention to yourselves." She handed Ren a leather-bound, A5-sized writing pad with a ticket sticking out of it, then closed the door.

"What did she give us, mercenary?", asked Ren's cohort.

Ren examined the book. "Looks like a diary of some sort, mystic. Shall we read it?"

The other man responded with a faint giggle. "Ooh _yes_ , let's do that!"

The two sat down alongside each other on a pair of old dining chairs, and spread the book between them.

 _Dear reader, this isn't a conventional diary of sorts, detailing my day-to-day life curating a museum, as one might have expected to find. Instead, I, Doctor Arthur Mordred Watts, will be marking down a number of secrets which need to be preserved and protected within these annals – preserved by those smart enough to protect the rest of the world from them. If you are faint of heart, then do not read onwards._

 _Almost twenty-three years ago at the time of writing (20/12/1888), I fell off the docks near the city of Luxor during the middle of one night's drunkeness. I would've likely drowned in the Nile, had it not been for the kindness bestowed upon me by a stranger in a paddle boat. The woman was a gaunt and white-haired Egyptian, and her deathly pallor and red eyes marked her out as someone who suffered from albinism. She led me up a small inlet which lead to a cave._

 _Within the cave, I beheld more of her people. They weren't albinos, but had the tell-tale facial features of the Egyptian race. Fortunately, I'd spent most of my youth growing up in Egypt, and was able to converse reasonably fluently in their tongue. In return, the albino woman asked to be taught my native language, and so I duly obliged. I spent the better part of a year with the tribe – they called themselves the Grimm, if I recall rightly._

* * *

"The Grimm? How can that sacrilege be?!", exclaimed the mystic.

"Let's find out," Ren replied calmly.

 _Eventually, the woman and I knew each other biblically, and sired a daughter together. She looked exactly like her mother, but without the pale skin or hair; indeed, she looked thoroughly Middle Eastern in appearance. However, most strangely, her eyes were so vivid a shade of brown as to appear like burnt embers – a far cry from both her mother's pink-ish red and my green. We named her Emerald, because the tribe's elder claimed that she reminded him of an image of Cleopatra carved from an emerald._

"Emerald ..." Ren breathed.

"I'm not sure I want to read more, but I think we'll need to," the mystic stated.

Ren nodded and turned towards the page.

 _Eventually, I had to rejoin the wider world, so my daughter and I moved to the city of Luxor. That way, she'd be close to her mother and native ancestors, yet be raised amongst the wider world alongside me – and her mother agreed to these terms. But alas, fate had other plans in mind. From the minute she knew how to walk and talk, I_ _knew_ _that Emerald wasn't right in the head. She was polite and well-mannered enough towards adults and adolescents alike, but children never went near her alone. As it turned out, she'd taken to stealing toys from the other kids and manipulating people to do her bidding._

 _My trying to teach her differently never worked, either. Desperate for answers, I took her to see her mother and her tribe, hoping that they could provide answers. What they did to try alleviating my concerns was to spend two days with Emerald and educate her on their way of life – in effect, teaching them about the religious beliefs that they had. This included an object they revered – an ancient shield of bronze called "The Eye Of Ra", which lay in an ancient Egyptian tomb near the Valley of the Kings. Legend had it, so they said, that if anyone were to try stealing it, then a sudden storm would come for them and claim their lives._

* * *

The mystic's hazel eyes widened. "Emerald's told me that story before. I had no idea it was actually true ..."

"You and me both, mystic. Let's press on."

 _So after educating her about all of this, they led Emerald up to the burial chamber, and left her there alone for the next day. The idea went like this:"If she accepts responsibility for her crimes and actions, then she may live with whom-so-ever she pleases. However, if she tries to steal the Eye, then you_ _must_ _take her away from this place." No sooner had I agreed to their proposal than I heard a flash of thunder. Myself, the tribe's elder, and Emerald's mother sped up the ladder to find what remains the most haunting sight of all time; Emerald, all of nine years old, standing_ _on top of Tetesheri's sarcophagus_ _with the Eye of Ra in hand, with perhaps the scariest smile any of us ever beheld._

 _It was as if she was trying to summon a dragon with the Eye. Shocked into mute anger, the albino picked up the shield, and struck me upside the head with it. As I shrugged off a concussion, she told me in no uncertain terms that I had to leave, and that Emerald was going with me. What I did next still haunts me. With my brother owning a set of rooms in Mayfair, I moved out from Luxor the following month and travelled back to London by train … and abandoned Emerald in France on the way there. I knew full well that whatever efforts I would have made to keep her in check would have been fruitless, so I left her behind and hoped she'd never come to England._

Ren and his cohort exchanged utterly shocked glances. _This explains a_ _great deal_ _about her,_ their eyes seemed to say.

 _But even then, I knew I had to be prepared for her to come. Ten years ago, I founded the Grimm Security Force, a group of mercenaries who worked in the security trade. I'd long since delegated the task of co-ordinating that group to a police officer friend of mine who had grown sick of the frequent robberies in his district. And sure enough, six years after they were founded, they caught Emerald in a bungled attempt to kill me. They brought her before me, and I was stunned by her condition. Many years of street life had made her a walking skeleton; her hair had been dyed green, and she looked for all the world like a zombie._

 _So I made her an offer; I'd already been head curator of Exham Museum for the preceding thirteen years, and had earned enough through that means and the security trade to purchase a townhouse by the Thames in Fulham (which no-one was ever told about). If we promised to keep away from each other, I in turn would hand her the Grimm Security Force and the set of rooms as a means of earning income doing a respectable job in London. She accepted, and I moved out of my rooms as soon as I could allow. And it's worked to each other's advantage ever since._

* * *

"Is there more?"

"Let me see, mystic."

Ren flipped over to the next page, which had the ticket taped to it.

 _18/11/1889: I've learned the most horrible news. The Grimm company were responsible for the disaster at the Clockwork Pavilion earlier this week. Agreement or no, I stormed up to the Mayfair rooms to confront my daughter, and discovered that Emerald had long since sold them off. I was told that she'd purchased the Tenebrae Club in St. James's Street. I hailed a cab and made my way down there with all haste._

 _By the time I got there, a single Grimm employee was dying of a stomach wound while the building was being shot up. I hauled him down a side street and asked him who he truly served. With his last breaths, he explained that the so-called Creatures of Grimm believe in a dragon-god of destruction who makes them sow anarchy. His symbol is the Eye of Ra, apparently. After this, he expired, and I was just able to dash out of there before the club was set ablaze._

Below it, was written one more entry, and the mystic was beginning to shake.

 _30/11/1889: PYRRHA NIKOS HAS TAKEN THE EYE! THE CURSE IS HERE! I'M DOOMED NOT BY A FALSE GOD, BUT BY A WRATHFUL TRIBE!_

"NO!", screamed the mystic, gibbering into his hands.

Ren turned to him. "What's wrong?"

The mystic convulsed as he bent backwards and yelled at the ceiling.

"I _WILL NOT_ ACCEPT THIS _BLASPHEMY_! **PYRRHA NIKOS MUST DIE** _ **AT MY HANDS!**_ "

He jumped up and began his hunt. Ren stood up and tried calling him back.

"WAIT! _TYRIAN_!"

But it was too late. Tyrian Callows ran out with the ticket, screaming like a wounded animal.

The autumnal rain provided a backdrop that equalled the melancholy within Ren's mind at this moment. _May whatever god who's listening out there condemn that mad man_ , Ren mentally cursed as he left for East Croydon station, with his weapons and Watts's diary in hand. _I've got something crucial to do, and I'd better start moving_ _before_ _he reaches the address on that ticket._

* * *

 **A/N: First up, the title is "A Study In Purple". No points for guessing where that's from.**

 **Secondly, the plot is starting to thicken up. Who are the murderers of Doctor Watts, and what is their goal?**

 **Third, I hope the origin story of Emerald and the Grimm was satisfactory.**

 **And last, the soundtrack song for this chapter is "Ji" by Periphery - lyrically, it matches (or closely aligns) with the Grimm.**


	4. Pulchritudo Et Quod Bestia

Chapter Four: Pulchritudo Et Quod Bestia

Wednesday, the 30th of October, 1889.

As Ren was departing from the Croydon flat, Jaune and Pyrrha were arriving at Exham Museum. Walking through the Egyptian gallery, Pyrrha silently led Jaune into her private office on the right. Once inside, Pyrrha floundered into her armchair, looking emotionally exhausted.

Jaune turned to her and asked, "Pyrrha, is it alright if I call in some cops to help guard the place after it closes?"

Pyrrha nodded.

"Very well. I'll also ring Oobleck about what he found, and call in the man who led the investigation of the Tenebrae Club explosion."

It was then that he noticed Pyrrha's state, and Jaune promptly decided to hold the procedural stuff for the moment.

"But first, would you like something to drink?"

Pyrrha looked at Jaune wearily.

"Irish breakfast, white and none. There will be some in the staff kitchen. Also, get some watercress and chicken sandwiches from there. Feel free to help yourself to some."

Jaune looked somewhat surprised at Pyrrha's choice in tea, but nodded affirmatively.

"Sure thing. Never realised you were one for Irish tea, by the way."

Pyrrha, _clearly_ having heard _that_ remark before, sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Well, when your mother's an Irishwoman, you learn to love Irish tea _really_ quickly."

"Ah; that makes sense. I did wonder why you had auburn hair despite the Greek surname. Anyway, I'll get to making that tea. Where's the staff kitchen?"

"Go towards the back of this wing, and enter the last door on the left."

"Thank you, Pyrrha."

* * *

As Jaune walked out, Pyrrha ruminated miserably on the increasingly appalling situation she found herself in.

"This is just dandy. Who would have thought that I'd become the damsel in distress in some tenth-rate melodrama?"

As she said that, a wave of anger overcame her. _No_ , she resolved. _I will not sit back and let the officers do all the work for me. I need to get Mil_ _ό and guard the shield alongside the police – after all, I'm responsible for bringing it here_. As she finished thinking this, Jaune returned with two cups of tea and enough sandwiches for the pair of them.

"Thank you, Inspector," Pyrrha said gratefully.

"You're welcome, Pyrrha," Jaune replied as he sat down with her.

"So Inspector," Pyrrha started, "do you have any plan on stopping these murderers in their tracks?"

Jaune considered it for a moment. "Well, I could fill the place with policemen after closing time, hoist the shield up somewhere in plain view and ambush the murderers then."

Pyrrha mulled it over. "That does make sense; after all, the Grimm were likely waiting for Yatsuhashi to leave before they killed Arthur. It stands to reason that they'd wait until the museum's empty before striking."

At that point, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Pyrrha called out. Standing outside was Pyrrha's assistant.

"Pyrrha, the secure display you asked for the Eye of Ra has just finished being assembled. We'll be ready to place the Eye of Ra within it at a moment's notice."

Pyrrha smiled. "Good work. I'll just finish my lunch and fetch the shield from my house."

* * *

Her assistant nodded and walked off, and Jaune turned to Pyrrha as she shut the door.

"I'm pretty sure you lied to her just then," he whispered.

Pyrrha nodded. "I know; she doesn't know where it's being stored, and I needed to retrieve a little something from my house. It will help with your ambushing plan."

"If you insist on helping us, I guess I can take you home."

Pyrrha then turned to him.

"We can always take the tube from Baker Street; that will get us to Kensington without drawing attention to ourselves."

"Good thinking, Pyrrha. I'll just get onto the Yard about the plan, along with getting results from forensics and contacting Special Branch about their investigation."

Pyrrha nodded as she started eating her lunch. She allowed her mind to drift off all the while, only remembering snippets of Jaune's conversations – like "estoc was the likely weapon, eh?" and "I'm pretty sure it was them, Branwen."

She only came to when Jaune put the receiver down for the last time.

* * *

If someone were to ask Inspector Jaune Arc where he thought a young, female archaeologist lived, he would've likely responded with "either her parents or in a set of reasonably cheap rooms".

He was therefore struck dumb when Pyrrha led him to her three-storey townhouse in one of the wealthiest parts of London.

Finally, as Dr. Nikos led him into her parlour, Jaune regained the ability to speak.

"If you don't mind me asking, Pyrrha, how come a young archaeologist like you lives alone in a Kensington townhouse? Do you family provide it for you?"

She turned to him with an embarrassed expression and shyly answered him as they sat down.

"Well, yes and no. Due to my father's father being an investment banker and my mother being of noble ancestry, my family are obscenely wealthy. In fact, they had a country house in Shropshire, where I grew up, as well as this townhouse.

"Then about five years ago, my father got an offer to work in Australia, and he and my mother agreed. My older brother, who is a naturalist and veterinarian, stayed in Shropshire while my younger brother moved to Adelaide with my parents, having earned a place in the new music college there. I was given the townhouse and a fair amount of their fortune because, by that time, I had gained a job at Exham and had just finished my doctorate at Queen's College, Oxford.

"Although my father fuelled my ambitions and allowed me to realise my potential as a scientist and explorer, my mother and both my brothers envy me for all the attention I received. So asides from the odd letter from my father, I haven't spoken to my family since we all went our separate ways."

Jaune whistled as they sat down in the parlour, his features set in a sombre arrangement.

"That's … quite a sad story, Pyrrha. And in a way, similar to mine."

Pyrrha cocked an eyebrow at this revelation.

"How so, Inspector?"

* * *

Jaune took a moment to collect himself before answering.

"Well, my family tree is riddled with career soldiers. My grandfather, General Augustus Arc, fought in India as a captain, and my father, Colonel Sir Noirtier Arc, served under Lord Chelmsford during the Zulu war. With a history like that in the family, you couldn't _not_ be raised in wealth and its trappings.

"After boarding at Eton, I got into Pembroke College at Cambridge on a criminology course, then washed out of the army and landed a post in Scotland Yard. This _deeply_ angered my father, because he only ever looked for himself in me; a grizzled, stoic brute who could kill his enemies and send his inferiors to their deaths with no remorse. But I couldn't be as merciless and cruel as him, so he tried to disown me.

"But as the only son, I was spared somewhat by my mother. She bought me a decent set of rooms in Soho and gave me a few hundred pounds to start off with, but couldn't do a thing to help when I was cut off from my father's money. Since then, I haven't had much contact with my sisters, and my father takes every opportunity he gets to degrade me whenever my mother receives me."

Pyrrha's expression mirrored the one that Jaune had worn earlier that day. _All this time_ , Pyrrha realised, _he's gone out of his way to be kind to me, and likely every innocent soul he deals with in his line, because he doesn't want anyone inflicting nastiness on him like his father did. I'd better drop the formalities and treat him with a little more friendliness –_ _even if he did_ _go to Cambridge_.

Jaune sighed wearily. "So Pyrrha, what idea did you have for the ambush?"

Pyrrha smiled at him as she rose towards the stairs.

"Jaune, wait down here for a few minutes, and I'll show you what I had in mind."

As Jaune decided to relax in the recliner chair he found himself in, Pyrrha ran to her bedroom on the top floor and laid out her safari outfit – which had been refurbished the day after she'd arrived in London. Retaining her fedora, Pyrrha changed her outfits as quickly as any Victorian lady could've managed under the circumstances. She then trotted down to the first floor, then called down for Jaune to walk upstairs. When he alighted on the landing, he walked into Pyrrha's workshop, and found himself staring at Pyrrha in her huntress regalia – modified rifle included.

"Well," Jaune said finally, "that's _certainly_ one way of dealing with the Grimm."

For the first time that day, Pyrrha found it in herself to laugh.

* * *

At five that evening, Exham Museum closed to the public. Most of the staff finished their work a little bit later and left over the next half an hour, but Pyrrha was known for being something of a workaholic and usually let the cleaners in when she left at six. As it stood today, though, Jaune had a number of plain-clothes detectives cover the various entrances and exits, with Constable Burns helping coordinate their efforts.

Special Branch's Inspector Qrow Branwen, though caustically dismissive of the idea that more Grimm were out there, had reluctantly taken his post in the upper floor of the east wing, looking over the Zoo's entrance. Inside, Pyrrha had already placed the Eye of Ra inside its display case, and Jaune had just finished affixing it to a spot above the entrance to the Egyptian gallery.

"Right, that about settles it; I'll head to the west wing of the building and watch from the upper floor. Don't hesitate to scream if there's a problem."

"Well, I'll try my best, Jaune," Pyrrha casually replied as he ran off.

However, the one place that the police deemed impossible for the murderers to access without detection was the roof. Unfortunately, Tyrian had been hiding within London Zoo's outer walls for the last hour, and decided to strike now that the museum was empty.

The soles of his boots had been lined with golden Dust powder, and that meant that it only took one running jump to clear the fences and land on the southern side of the museum's roof. Wasting no time, Tyrian quickly located the main foyer's window, donned his pair of blade-edged cestuses and dived fists first into the glass.

Pyrrha had just walked towards the shield's display when the glass broke. Startled, she drew Milό and turned to face the attacker. Tyrian Callows threw off his duster jacket, and stood at full height. Bracers held up his white pants, and an open vest revealed scarring on his chest, which looked like one of the hieroglyphs on the shield. _He_ _mutilated_ _himself to match the Eye?_ , Pyrrha observed in shock. _What insane asylum did he emerge from?!_

* * *

Tyrian's expression was dark, and intensely brooding.

"You were the one who _dared_ touch the Eye of Ra? Such blasphemy will _not_ be rewarded in kindness, pretty little thing," said Tyrian maniacally.

To her credit, Pyrrha held her nerves and tried to defuse the situation.

"Look above me; the Eye of Ra is safe and unspoiled! I only took it to make sure it wouldn't be harmed by others."

Tyrian froze, his face a mask of indecision as he pondered his course of action. Unfortunately, it was decided quite cruelly by a spot of bad luck on Pyrrha's part. The archaeologist stepped backwards, and tripped over the stairs. The rifle in her hand fired itself, shooting a blast of crimson Dust upwards and dislodging the Eye of Ra from its perch. Tyrian's features contorted into a rictus of rage as the case shattered.

" **THAT'S** _ **ENOUGH**_ **WITH YOUR LIES, DEFILER! YOU DIE TONIGHT,** _ **WITLESS BEAUTY!**_ "

With a mere twist of its lock, a rudimentary yet dangerous harpoon was unwrapped from Tyrian's belt and moved of its own accord. It never stayed in one place long, thanks to the crystal of golden Dust within it. Pyrrha barely had the time to get up before Tyrian pirouetted, letting his momentum determine the harpoon's course. She rolled to her right as the harpoon lodged itself into the wall, shifted her weapon into sword mode, and hacked at the rope with all her might.

She managed to sever one of the three strands and make a severe incision on another, rendering the harpoon's aim erratic at best. Tyrian used her distractedness to charge Pyrrha, leading with his right arm. Pyrrha ducked just in time, and used her whip to trip him up. As he fell, Pyrrha sliced through the remaining harpoon rope, shifted Milό into gun mode, and shot him in the backside.

All that did, however, was to set the rope on fire and annoy Tyrian even more. With a nasty right hook, he sent Pyrrha flying across the room, landing on the shield.

" ** _ENOUGH_ WITH YOU TOUCHING THE EYE! I WILL** – _**OUCH!**_ " Tyrian clutched at his side, and jumped through the broken window screaming animalistically.

At the toilet entrance, Qrow stood in silence with a smoking derringer in his left hand.

* * *

Jaune, meanwhile, was running towards the foyer when Constable Burns found him.

"Did you catch the murderer?"

Burns had the decency to look embarrassed. "He outran us sir, even though he'd been shot in the stomach."

Jaune clenched his fists in fury.

" _GOD DAMN IT!_ Burns, send the description out for the suspect _at once_ ; I _don't_ want that bastard escaping so easily."

"Yes sir!"

Jaune burst into the main foyer, fuming with an uncharacteristic amount of anger. Pyrrha was struggling to hold Milό in her hand, and was shaking and sweating like she was burning alive. Qrow's face was stoic, even though stress was palpable in his eyes as he holstered his smoking pistol.

Jaune stared Qrow down with an expression that could've haunted houses.

" _ **Do you believe me now?!**_ ", he shouted angrily.

Pyrrha nearly dropped her weapon in surprise at Jaune's outburst, and Qrow raised his hands defensively.

"Calm down, kid. I'm no idiot. I didn't realise that whoever blew up the Tenebrae Club weren't as thorough as they believed."

* * *

Jaune scowled, then handed Qrow the shield and Pyrrha's address.

"Head to this address and look after the shield until I return here. Tell the French housekeeper that Pyrrha sent you, and that I'll be protecting Pyrrha tonight."

Qrow nodded reluctantly; this was Jaune's case, and he wasn't about to interfere with his duty – not just yet, anyway. Even so, the thought of an unmarried man staying with an unmarried woman visibly rankled him.

Pyrrha picked up on Qrow's apprehension, and walked over to the older policeman.

"I have a separate bedroom for him to sleep in, if that's what you're worried about."

Qrow relaxed. "That's something. Just make sure he behaves himself."

"Well, he's done just that all day, so I'm sure he'll keep it up."

Qrow nodded, then turned to the exit and left.

"Um, Pyrrha," Jaune started, "I was wondering if you want to do something this evening?"

Pyrrha looked at him curiously. "Well, I've got nothing on, and Inspector Branwen will be guarding the shield tonight … so yes, I'm amenable to the idea. What did you have in mind, Jaune?"

Jaune turned to her with a smile on his face.

"Something to take your mind off your troubles. And before you ask, it's on me."

* * *

At six-thirty, Qrow arrived at Pyrrha's house with the shield in hand, the police were searching for Tyrian, and Jaune and Pyrrha were alighting from their cab outside the Savoy Theatre. Jaune lit up like a Christmas tree when he led Pyrrha to the door.

"We're seeing 'The Yeomen of the Guard' tonight; Gilbert and Sullivan's latest! I already had a spare ticket in case any of my friends wanted to come, but I reckoned you deserve it more than them after today."

Pyrrha looked pleasantly surprised, both at his generosity _and_ his depth of character.

"Why, thank you Jaune – I hadn't had the chance to see this one due to my two Egyptian expeditions. And I must say, I knew you were educated, but I never took you to be a fan of music."

"Well," Jaune replied, "that's the sort of thing that happens when you grow up with seven sisters."

Pyrrha chuckled as she was led to an ampitheatre seat.

As Qrow stood guard outside Pyrrha's house at half-past ten that night, he heard what sounded like a young couple having a laughter-fueled conversation. Jaune and Pyrrha moved into view, giving Qrow cause to let a small smile form on his face. _What a gentleman_ , Qrow thought to himself; _he's truly a credit to the force for his chivalrous actions_.

"So Jaune," Qrow began as the pair walked through the gate, "what did you two get up to?"

"Well, I had a spare ticket to see 'The Yeomen of the Guard'. It was immensely enjoyable; wouldn't you agree, Pyrrha?"

The archaeologist giggled. "Of course, Jaune. The first number was _easily_ one of the best I've heard Jessie Bond do before, and who knew one could make so many puns in quasi-Shakespearian English?"

"I know, right? "

"Well, I'm glad to know the pair of you had fun tonight," said Qrow pleasantly. "I guess I'll head back home now you're here. Have you got any ideas about dealing with the shield?"

Pyrrha considered it for a moment. "Well, I think we'll have a 'one-time display' at some point this week, bring in a bit of revenue, then have it locked away in a safe or vault. Does Scotland Yard have such a place?"

Qrow nodded. "Indeed it does – several, in fact. Jaune, let me know when you two are ready to hand over the shield; I'll see about securing a vault for this purpose in the meantime."

"No problem, Inspector," Jaune affirmed.

* * *

As the door shut, Qrow finally moved past the front gate, and walked towards Kensington High Street tube station. _He took his sweet time_ , observed Ren as he moved towards Pyrrha's front gate. Tiptoeing to the mailbox, Ren took out Watts's diary and wrote a note on the back of it's front cover; his radiant dangling off a chain clasped around his neck.

 _To Doctor Nikos,_

 _Contained within is a confession from your late colleague, Doctor Arthur Watts, on certain actions he'd taken in years past that helped cause the events of the last few weeks take place. And I'd like to apologise for what happened to him. I was sent to peacefully convince him to not rat on the Grimm's survivors, but he was already murdered when I arrived. Please note that I have never killed another person before, and I'll never do so. If anything else happens to you or someone you know, I will turn myself into Scotland Yard and share with them what I've now shared with you – as a means of appeasement, I'd hope._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Lie Ren, ex-member of the Grimm._

As Ren crept away from the house, Tyrian awakened in a ditch near the Blackfriars bridge. He strangely found that his wound had been bandaged. Standing up, Tyrian tried to focus, but could only see a blur at this point. Someone tapped him on the shoulder; Tyrian spun around, and in that instant his vision cleared. The smile the young woman in front of him harboured was crystalline, pure … and full of malevolence. It was the last thing Tyrian saw before a burly man throttled him.

At seven thirty that morning, Jaune and Pyrrha were both woken by the door bell. Quickly throwing on their dressing gowns, they greeted Qrow at the door.

"What brings you here so early, Inspector?" Jaune said drearily.

Qrow stiffened up.

"The bastard who attacked Dr. Nikos at the Museum has been found hanging off of Blackfriars bridge. Suicide, if the note in his pocket is any indicator. Also, I found this in the mailbox and read it."

He held up Watts's diary. "I dare say you lovebirds would want to take a look at all this."

Even though he expected to get slapped for that remark, Qrow didn't expect Pyrrha to dish it out.

* * *

 **A/N: The chapter's title means "Beauty and the Beast", for the record. First up, the soundtrack for this chapter serves as a delightful view into Tyrian's mind; "Caught In A Web" by Dream Theater.**

 **Secondly, in response to Cooler's review, I'll say at this point that Watts was murdered because he knew too much about the whole Grimm situation. His death will make more sense later on, though.**

 **Thirdly, I couldn't believe how high the view count jumped after A Purpura In Studium was published. The fic got 280 views _in one freaking day_ , and 500 all up at the time of writing. I'm amazed and flattered that you guys are loving this so much.**

 **Fourth, I'd been debating on whether to make Tyrian a Faunus who'd missed the injection and had a proper scorpion's tail, or if he was instead a crazed cultist with a weird weapon. Ultimately, picking the latter allowed me to introduce this AU's version of air Dust, and made sure I didn't spoil the original Belladonna Lilies story.**

 **And lastly - for those of you who aren't from England - when Pyrrha thinks "I'll be friendlier to him - even if he did go to Cambridge", it's a reference to the fact that Oxford and Cambridge are the two oldest universities in England (and the second and fourth oldest _in the world_ ), and have been rivals for eight centuries as of the present day.**

 **Anyway, I'll see you guys next time. Feel free to leave a review or a favourite!**


	5. Orientalis Redemptio

Chapter Five: Orientalis Redemptio

Thursday, the 31st of October, 1889.

As a morbid crowd gathered at the sight of Tyrian's corpse dangling from the bridge, a young man in dark green considered his next move. _I'd better live up to my promise to Dr. Nikos_ , he ruminated. _I can't believe I spent most of my evening trailing him from Regent's Park, going down Hampstead and Tottenham Court Roads all the while, only to bloody lose him at Trafalgar Square_. As Tyrian was finally cut down from the bridge, Ren noticed the size of the welts around Tyrian's throat. He blanched in realisation as to what _actually_ happened, and ran into the Blackfriar's tube station. _Whoever killed Tyrian_ _must_ _have killed Watts – after all, Watts was strangled_ _and_ _stabbed – so someone is therefore targeting the rest of the Grimm. I'd put my money on the SDC, but I'll find out soon enough_.

While the ex-mercenary jumped off the District Line at Kensington High Street, Pyrrha and Jaune had just finished reading the diary of Dr. Watts. To put it mildly, the inspector and the archaeologist were dumbfounded at the severity of Watts's actions.

"So this whole thing was, in a strange way, Watts's fault," Jaune summarised.

Pyrrha, still hurting from losing someone she considered family, shot Jaune an aggrieved look.

"Did you _have_ to restate the _bloody obvious_ , Jaune?!"

Jaune shrank back from her, and immediately looked remorseful.

"I – I'm sorry, Pyrrha. I just have a habit of making sense of these things by verbalising them. I never meant to be insensitive towards you."

Pyrrha's tone and expression softened. "Apology accepted, Jaune."

Qrow smirked behind his clipboard, which he'd been using to draft his report. _Already, they're talking like a couple; it won't be long before things kick off between them_.

Jaune then turned to face Qrow. "With all this new evidence, Inspector Branwen, what would you do in the face of such a threat? I mean, we may have a potential informant in this Lie Ren character; that's something I'd prefer to follow up."

"Also," Pyrrha interjected, "you told us that there _weren't_ any female corpses when the Tenebrae Club got blown up, so obviously this Emerald person is still out there somewhere. She _needs_ to be dealt with and soon."

* * *

Qrow was about to respond when there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," he replied.

Upon opening the door, he saw a young Chinese man in a dark green suit, with a briefcase between him and the door.

"Have you read the diary, officer?", he asked.

Qrow blinked, then nodded. "Let me guess, you're Lie Ren?"

Ren nodded. "That's correct, sir. And I'm here to share with you everything I know about this whole situation."

"Very well. However, I must advise that I'll need to hold onto your weapons while we figure out where you stand, and that we'll need to head to Scotland Yard to record the interview."

"That's reasonable. All the weapons I have – two modified Reichsrevolvers, two bayonets, and four throwing knives – are inside this case, along with my few belongings. I'll be ready to leave when you are."

Qrow nodded again, then went inside.

"Who's out there?", Pyrrha enquired.

"The man who dropped the diary off, doctor. I'll take him now and process him at the Yard; I'll get you two to come there within an hour."

"Very well, Inspector."

* * *

An hour later, Ren and Jaune were seated in one of Scotland Yard's interrogation rooms. Qrow's gramophone maker was seated to one side of the table, a microphone halfway between the two men. After examining his watch, Jaune set the contraption off and started his business.

"Commencing interview with Mr. Lie Ren at 09:04. You aren't obliged to say anything, but anything you do say may be given as evidence. So, Mr. Lie, let's start at the beginning; what do you know of the organisation known as the Creatures of Grimm?"

"At this point, I'd like to point out that the diary of the late Dr. Arthur Watts made explicit reference to the fact that the Grimm was originally a security-for-hire organisation. Not long after I moved here in 1883, all of eighteen years of age, I was recruited by them for my competency at martial arts – and also because the English army don't allow for flat-footed people within their soldiers. I had first intended to start training people in jiujitsu when I arrived here, but had trouble with the man who was meant to sell me the property for the dojo."

"What kind of trouble?"

Ren looked particularly rueful at this point. "To put it tactfully, he wasn't someone kindly disposed towards my appearance."

Jaune looked sympathetic at this; in his opinion, there really wasn't any logic in hating others for things they didn't get to choose.

"So you tried for the army after this, got rejected on account of your flat feet, and the Grimm hired you?"

"That's correct. At the time, the company was still small, but their reputation amongst private firms was quite stellar and their number doubled the first year I was there. Why, Doctor Watts himself personally signed me up; he was a genuinely decent person."

* * *

"So, what sort of actions did you get up to during this benevolent period?"

"I was usually posted in various bars and casinos around London's south and west ends, working as a bouncer. It was quiet, but satisfying work. I continued to do this as my main source of income even after the leadership changed hands five years ago."

"I see," said Jaune. "As a result of Watts's diary, we now know that Watts handed over the reins to Emerald at the time; were there any other leaders alongside her?"

Ren nodded slowly. "Yes; including Emerald, there were four. One of them had been there since the beginning; the other three were appointed within the same month, and were the ones who directly sourced out contracts."

"Did they divide up the Grimm forces at all?"

"Indeed they did; Watts's second-in-command was the organiser and majordomo of the group. I was among the mercenaries, who did all of the legitimate work – but increasingly took on shady work alongside that. The other two factions were the assassins and the mystics, and we collectively were known as the Creatures of Grimm."

"Who were these leaders, Mr. Lie?"

"I'll start with the leader I answered to. He was a tall, alabaster-haired Yorkshireman by the name of Mercury Black. He was, to be perfectly frank, an absolute monster. He took over the mercenary faction of the Grimm when Watts retired. For my part, I always took any legitimate jobs offered to us – and mercifully, he saw the use in keeping up with appearances and allowed it.

"However, it was he who led almost two thirds of the existing mercenaries into the assassin's faction, and sullied our reputation. Ultimately, it was Black who ordered the hit on Weiss Schnee earlier this month, and I was one of about twenty Grimm mercenaries and assassins who _didn't_ take part in the carnage at the Clockwork Pavilion."

Jaune winced in painful nostalgia. He'd heard all too much about _that_ unpleasant business from those colleagues that handled it.

* * *

Ren's expression softened in empathy. "After losing a sizeable chunk of our forces there, I was press-ganged into doing murkier work. But I'll tell you this; I never claimed a life at any stage during that time. Thieving's the worst thing I've been forced into doing – and even then, it didn't happen."

Jaune's right eyebrow shot up like a springboard. "How do you mean, 'it didn't happen'?"

Ren cleared his throat. "After the Tenebrae Club blew up and claimed all but one of the assassins, the majordomo wanted me to do something that involved taking something – and that was my appearance at the house of Dr. Watts. The Grimm majordomo gave Tyrian and myself an order to convince Watts to desist from revealing information about us, and I learned afterwards that Tyrian had been asked in secret to 'silence' Watts _only_ if the latter attacked first. But before we could start negotiating with Watts, we found him murdered in cold blood."

"What role did Tyrian play in the organisation, for the record?"

"He was one of their more zealous mystics; many of these were recruited at madhouses and brainwashed by their leader _personally_. When Tyrian learned that his religion was a complete fabrication, he ran off screaming like an animal. I tried to stop him, but he was just too fast. I dare say you're familiar already with how that panned out."

"Indeed. These mystics sound dangerous, Mr. Lie. Who on earth led them before the disaster?"

"It was Emerald Sustrai who led the mystics. She rightly claimed to be from the Grimm tribe of Egypt that Watts wrote of in his diary, and that the Eye of Ra was a sacred symbol guarded by the tribe as a 'gift from the heavens'; however, those were the only truths she ever told. As we now know thanks to the diary, she arrived just as Watts retired from the group, having taken the reins from him as means of appeasement for his abandonment.

"Without his knowledge, she transformed this organisation from being the Grimm Security Force to the Creatures of Grimm assassin clan we all know about. Her personal magnetism and excellent oratory skill was so subtle, yet so manipulative, that anyone who _didn't_ have complete discipline over their minds found themselves enthralled to her words like it was gospel. However, asides from Tyrian, the mystics were wiped out to the last when the Tenebrae Club blew up."

* * *

"That's a relief to hear. What of the third leader for this group?"

"The third leader was the one who started the trend of wearing the masks, led the assassins, and I suspect was the true mastermind of the three. She'd been the majordomo's assistant before the leadership changed. It was Emerald's deception and Mercury's brutality that was utilised by the third leader for her aims."

"To what aims are you referring?"

"I've come to realise now that all three of them were using us as agents of chaos before the Pavilion disaster; I remember that they left us under the majordomo shortly afterwards. When the Tenebrae Club exploded, I believed that Black and the other two leaders tipped off the SDC to cause the latter disaster _intentionally_ , to hide their tracks and dispose of our dying cult. The last assassin among our number tried trailing them, and reported back to the rest of us of a rumour. Allegedly, the three plan to start robbing one of the SDC's automata divisions, but not until half-way through next year at the earliest."

Jaune's face darkened at this development. "The SDC would _certainly_ want to know about that. Do you have any idea why the hell those three did what they did?"

Ren shrugged. "I honestly don't know, Inspector. But if I were to hazard a guess, it appears that they seek to undermine civilisation for the sake of doing so, as though their sole goal is unmitigated chaos and dissension – a far sight indeed from the common criminal's goals of luxury, vice or power."

"Sounds right enough," Jaune agreed. "Before we finish, have you warned anyone else about this?"

"I have. When I realised I missed my chance to rein Tyrian in, I visited a federal politician who'd employed us as bodyguards over the years. I let him know where the other mercenaries were hiding and how bad things had gotten, and he swore to call in one of your top brass about it at the next opportunity – as I understood it, he'd clear a hole in his schedule and meet him at his office in the Houses of Parliament on Tuesday evening."

Jaune nodded, enunciated "Interview concluded at 09:12," then turned off Qrow's gramophone maker.

* * *

"Is there anything else I should know about Dr. Watts's murder, by the way?", asked Ren politiely.

Jaune mulled it over for a moment, then responded. "Just that he was strangled, then stabbed – and his butler said that the likely perpetrators were a small, thin person, and a tall, muscular person – and get this, _both_ of them were Grimm agents."

Ren's eye lit up in recognition. "Well, I know who the small one is – although not by name, I'd still recognise her face if I saw it."

"That's … something, at least. Any clue on the burly one?"

"Unfortunately, no; half the surviving mercenaries are of that generic build."

Jaune nodded, writing down a note about Ren's visual confirmation detail in the case file.

"That'll be all for the interrogation, Mr. Lie."

Ren shifted nervously in his seat as Jaune packed away the case file.

"So … are you going to charge me with any offences, Inspector?"

Jaune considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "No. The mystic you worked with, as we both got told, was hanged with a note in his pocket."

"Hold up a minute; I chanced upon the scene when trying to track Tyrian down this morning, and I saw the welts. He had definitely been strangled first."

"Noted. What the papers _didn't_ tell you was that the note was written on the back of a memo from the majordomo. You were to be the "offering" for Scotland Yard when Watts was murdered by Tyrian – but of course, that didn't happen. You certainly didn't go willingly, and the criminal's already been punished for his failure."

* * *

Ren looked particularly stunned at this turn of events. "But – but even if I'm cleared of all responsibility for my crimes, I doubt I'll have the ability to find alternative employment with this grievance against my name."

Jaune pondered his options for a moment, before deciding to leave.

"Wait, Inspector; where are you going?!"

Jaune glanced at Ren from the doorway. "To decide your future; what else?"

Making his way around to the viewing room, hidden behind a one-way mirror on the far wall, he approached Pyrrha with a question as Qrow stood in the corner silently.

"Doctor, is there anything you could do to help this man avoid more trouble?"

Pyrrha concentrated for a few silent minutes, then her eyes lit up as an answer arranged itself in her throat.

"I'll employ him as my butler; I'll need someone to watch the house once Coco's married."

Jaune was astonished at how _obvious_ this solution was; he _knew_ someone as empathetic and wise as Pyrrha would have a good answer, but he mentally kicked himself for forgetting her place in London's social strata. _Of course this would work_ , Jaune realised; _she'd be earning more than enough to afford paying him a wage – she already has a housekeeper on retainer, after all. Additionally, his training in martial arts and skill with pistols and throwing knives would serve well if Pyrrha took him on one of her adventures_.

"Shall I inform Mr. Lie of this idea?", Jaune offered.

"We'll do it together, Jaune," Pyrrha asserted.

* * *

As the door to the interviewing room opened again, Ren beheld Jaune leading in a woman he recognised all too well; Dr. Pyrrha Nikos, the woman who's house he'd left the diary at.

"Ren, isn't it?", she asked.

"Yes, milady," Ren responded.

"I've got a good proposition for you; would it interest you to be employed as my butler?"

Ren's eyes widened, and he mulled it over for about quarter of a minute.

"Even though I've never learned to be a butler, I'll give it my all. Just one thing, though; can I please keep my weapons?"

Jaune went to say no, but Pyrrha dryly beat him to the punch. "Well, given how life-threatening archaeology is these days, I'd welcome your expertise in that field."

After a moment's silence, all three of them burst into a good fit of laughter, much to their mutual surprise. Wiping a small tear from his eye, Jaune nodded.

"That's fair enough; Qrow will get them for you. I'll just need to file some paperwork with my superiors, and I'll be at yours soon after you two get there to collect my things."

"Very well, Jaune," Pyrrha replied; "we'll meet you there."

As Jaune, Ren and Pyrrha walked out of the room, Qrow retrieved the gramophone and handed the weapons case over to Ren.

"Regarding the recording, I'll make a copy for your benefit, Jaune. After this, all we'll need to do is find the murderer."

"Indeed; if Ren hears of anything, I'll let you know."

They nodded at each other, and went their separate ways.

* * *

After taking the District tube from Embankment back to Kensington High Street, Pyrrha and Ren returned to Pyrrha's home at the stroke of eleven.

"Coco, are you in?"

The response came from the kitchen. "Yes, _mon cher_. I'm about to head out though; Fox is taking me out to lunch today."

"That's alright; send my regards to Fox when you do."

"Alright, Pyrrha."

Ren took in his new surroundings for the first time; the parlour was on his left with the stairs on the far wall, and an underused billiard room on the right with a small water closet opposite the stairs. Ahead, Ren spotted a well-appointed, large dining room with a door to the kitchen and (presumably) the laundry. As he was led upstairs and shown the first floor, Ren beheld a large workshop at the front of the house.

A small side room on the right wall had the bed that Jaune used yesterday evening, and was likely the one Ren would get when he moved in. He noticed a stairway leading back and up to Pyrrha's chambers on the left wall, and caught a glimpse of Pyrrha's library and study at the back of the floor. As he put his briefcase down, there was a knock at the door.

Moving to get the door, Ren beheld Dr. Watts's murderer at his door.

"Do you have an appointment?", he asked grimly.

The small brunette curtsied. "Yes, I do. I'm Neo Politana, Pyrrha's assistant at Exham Museum, and she'd promised to compile a list of decorations for me to order for the new gallery. And you would be … ?"

"Lie Ren, her butler. Wait here." Ren leaned inside as Pyrrha walked downstairs.

"Your assistant's requested a list of decorations for the gallery, doctor."

"Ah, right; I'll just go fetch it. Won't be a minute!"

* * *

As Pyrrha turned to fetch the list she'd written that morning, Ren and Neo stared each other down predatorially. However, both of them realised that keeping their voices and weapons down would probably be the best policy; neither of them wanted to wind up imprisoned for their efforts.

"So," Ren began tersely, "you're working for her, aren't you."

"Sure enough," Neo responded with fake saccharine cheer; "the woman's work pays well!"

"Indeed it does. Look, if you won't mention me to anyone, I'll return the favour."

Neo pondered this for a moment. "Well, you never were one to stir up trouble. I'll leave you out of her and his plans."

Before Ren could ask who her collaborators were, Pyrrha returned and handed Neo the decoration list.

"Thanks Pyrrha. I'd better head off to order all this for Exham. I'll make sure they're delivered tomorrow, Pyrrha; in the meantime, have a good day!"

Pyrrha waved as Neo exited her house. Ren, however, locked the door and took Pyrrha aside, speaking somewhat sternly.

"That woman is not to be trusted."

* * *

Pyrrha was startled at _this_ accusation. "How do you mean? I've known her for almost as long as I've worked at Exham, Ren."

Ren decided to soften his tone at this point. "Tell me, did you remember what Watts's butler said about seeing a short person entering his house?"

"Yes, where are you g … oh no."

"Well, that person was Neo – and trust me, I'd know those boots anywhere. She's the last remaining assassin, and we can _not_ let her get to the Eye."

"Wait a second!", Pyrrha exclaimed. "She was with me during the expedition at Saqqara. She _must_ have made the telegram ordering me to go to the Valley of the Kings before we left, and passed it off as official communication."

"Well, that explains why you found the shield. Was she with you at the Valley of the Kings?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "No she wasn't; she was responsible for sending off the things I excavated at Imhotep's tomb. She arrived back in London a few days after I did."

Ren nodded slowly. "It all makes sense now; clearly, Emerald told her of the shield's importance and she tricked you into finding it. At present, I'd say she's likely returning to Exham to find it. Did you remove the shield from its public display?"

Pyrrha gave him a sly look. "Of course I did; it's underneath my bed."

Ren nodded appreciatively. "Good work, Pyrrha. Now, I can tell you that the Eye of Ra is something within the shield – at least, that's what Emerald told me years ago. If that's true, then we'll need to take it to a blacksmith to dismantle it and remove it safely."

Pyrrha's face lit up as an idea came to her. "Well, we can go to the man who helped build my own weapon; he's a dab hand at reforging things."

Ren nodded. "That sounds like a good plan; I'd at least like to ring Inspector Arc and warn him about Neo first."

Pyrrha nodded furiously. "That's fair enough; I'll get my things together in the meantime. We'll depart for Hammersmith soon."

Ren cocked his brows. "Surely that wasn't a cheap pun, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha chuckled slightly. "I wish."

* * *

At that point, there was another knock at the door. Ren approached the peephole, then unlocked the door.

"Come in, Inspector Arc."

"You're settling into the role nicely, Mr. Lie," said Jaune lightly as he entered.

"Thank you, sir. By the way, I've discovered who one of the two murderers of Dr Watts is."

Jaune looked surprised; Ren made for a much better lookout than he'd realised. "You spotted her already?! Who is it?"

"Much to Pyrrha's shock, it's her assistant, one Miss Neo Politana."

Jaune's eyes widened. "She was at the gallery's opening on the 29th - why the hell didn't she take the shield just now?"

"Because we had a terse conversation just before you arrived; she'd come to collect some orders from Pyrrha, and I answered the door. I have reason to believe that she's working for Emerald and someone else."

Jaune's expression shifted from amazement to contemplation, his detective training kicking in as he pondered who the other assailant might have been.

"Maybe the majordomo's taking matters into his own hands?"

Ren shook his head. "That isn't too likely; I've _never_ known the man to be one to work in the field."

Jaune stroked his chin. "Well, that's just brilliant. I'll still need to alert the SDC about the rumour that you heard, and I'll get Qrow onto Neo's case in the meantime."

Ren nodded. "Very well. I'd hurry if I were you, though; Pyrrha and I are taking the Eye of Ra to be dismantled and disposed of safely by her blacksmith."

Jaune quickly nodded, running towards the phone in the parlour. Retrieving the SDC headquarters' number from his list of contacts, Jaune dialled their head office. _If only phones could be portable_ , he lamented; _otherwise, I'd be able to contact Qrow and so on without having to hold people up_.

* * *

A frosty voice greeted him. "This is the SDC Headquarters, what is the nature of your enquiry?"

"Business-related; I'm from Scotland Yard and need to be directed towards Miss Weiss Schnee as soon as possible."

"One moment." The receptionist used the new intercom to enquire if Weiss was free. Getting an affirmative, the receptionist patched Jaune's call through to her private office.

"This is Weiss Schnee speaking; state your business."

"I'm Inspector Jaune Arc of Scotland Yard, and I'm calling about the Grimm."

Weiss sat _bolt upright_ in her seat; she needed to know if the Grimm were still out there.

"What do you need to tell me, Inspector?"

"That three of their number have escaped. One of them is an unknown female, but two of them are a young Egyptian called Emerald Sustrai and a young Yorkshireman called Mercury Black. I've received reliable information that they intend to start attacking one of the SDC's automata divisions around July next year."

Weiss stared into her coffee dramatically. "I'll keep my eyes peeled for those fiends. Thank you for the warning, Inspector."

Jaune hung up, ringing Qrow as Pyrrha walked downstairs with Jaune's things and the shield.

"You're through to Special Branch; Inspector Branwen speaking."

"Qrow, it's Inspector Jaune Arc here. The murderer has been positively identified; it's Miss Neo Politana of Exham Museum."

"Acknowledged, Jaune. I'll get onto her at once."

"Roger that. See you soon." Jaune hung up again, collected his things, then escorted Pyrrha and Ren to his cab.

"So, where are we heading next?"

* * *

 **A/N: The title of this one is Eastern Redemption, and the song for this chapter is "Repentance" by Dream Theater.**

 **First up, I'm going to be taking a week's break to catch up with the writing and other things - think of this chapter as a mid-season finale. We've got six more chapters to go, including the epilogue.**

 **Second, I'm sorry if the exposition that Ren gives is a bit complicated. In case any of you are lost, Neo's now on the wanted list, the Eye is being dealt with, the second killer is still at large, and Ren's now on the heroes' side. That's the bare bones of it. (Update: In response to Cooler, Emerald led the Mystics, Merc led the mercenaries, the unknown leader led the assassins, and the majordomo kept the books and minutes).**

 **And thirdly, who else is enjoying Qrow shipping Arkos? I certainly am. :D**

 **Anyway, thanks to you all for enjoying this so far. See you next week!**


	6. Mitto In Quo Faber Ferrarius

Chapter Six: Mitto In Quo Faber Ferrarius

Thursday, the 31st of October, 1889.

Ten minutes later, the trio entered the Sea-King Repairs Shop, a surprisingly clean blacksmith straddled between Baron's Court station and Talgarth Road. A melodious voice with a thick Greek accent called out to them when the doorbell clanged.

"I'll be with you in just a moment."

After a number of footsteps, a tall, younger man strode out in a red apron, white smock and blue jeans. His welding goggles were affixed onto his forehead underneath a beret as blue as his eyes, which promptly went wide in recognition.

"Ah, Pyrrha! What brings you here today, huh?"

"Gentlemen," Pyrrha said to Jaune and Ren, "this is Neptune Vasilias, the blacksmith I've always gone to for repairs and modifications. Neptune, meet my butler, Lie Ren, and my friend, Inspector Jaune Arc."

Neptune took off his smithing gloves, leaned over the counter and shook hands with the pair.

"Pleased to meet you, gentlemen."

"Likewise," replied Jaune pleasantly.

"An honour," intoned Ren calmly.

"As for why we came here," Pyrrha explained, "we'd like you to examine a shield for us – and hopefully, remove whatever's inside it."

"Sounds reasonable," Neptune replied. "Let's have a look at it."

Pyrrha reached behind her back and retrieved the Eye of Ra.

Taking it from her, Neptune examined it thoroughly and efficiently, noting the quality of the metal used and so on. He then held up a Dust magnet to it, which promptly tugged hard towards the centre of the shield. Putting both of these down, Neptune returned to his customers.

"Well, as I can see," Neptune explained, "the bronze shield contains a piece of Dust. However, I can't remove it without cutting the shield open – and this shield is so ancient, I'm not sure I have the ability to avoid causing terrible structural damage if I try doing it alone."

* * *

Pyrrha looked shocked at this development.

"You mean … you mean we can't fix this?"

"Hold your horses, Pyrrha," Neptune assured. "I've got a huntress who comes here often for me to help her make grenade parts. The thing is, she's a trained metallurgist; with her skills on hand, we could do it. She lives down the road, too, so getting her help will be easy."

Pyrrha promptly brightened up at this.

"Very well, Neptune. Please call her in."

"Anything for my favourite Amazonian queen!", Neptune joked as Pyrrha giggled.

As he walked off towards his phone, Jaune leaned towards Pyrrha and whispered grimly. "Is it just me, or is your blacksmith too flirtatious for his own good?" Pyrrha smiled slyly at him.

"Yes, but do you see a ring on my hand? He's not one for marrying into the upper-class, or their attitudes."

"Well, neither are you by all accou-" Ren began, before Pyrrha put her hand over his mouth. Her gaze was uncharacteristically steely, and her voice dripped with muted venom.

"Only within my walls, Mr. Lie."

Ren hesitated, then nodded his head.

"Apologies, milady."

Jaune, to his credit, had hidden the resultant smirk behind his gloved hand.

At that moment, Neptune returned to the front counter.

"She'll be here in a jiffy. Now the thing with this woman is –"

"Top of the morning, squires!"

"– she's a _tad_ eccentric."

* * *

All heads turned towards the doorway. Standing there was a short Irishwoman in a garishly pink dress with white riding boots. The dress itself ended around the knee-line, more befitting a circus sharpshooter than a member of high society. A slightly lengthy cap of ginger hair poked out from underneath her white fedora, with oceanic eyes and a wide smile defining her cherubic face. Lastly, a leather belt with many pouches and tools hanging off of it was lashed around her waist. Hanging over her left hip was what looked like a mini-sledgehammer with an oversized hammerhead.

"What's cracking, Neptune?", the newcomer said first, before regarding the odd trio looking at her. "Oh, where are my manners?! I'm Nora Valkyrie, huntress and metallurgist."

Pyrrha shook her hand first.

"Dr. Pyrrha Nikos, archaeologist."

Nora promptly went wide-eyed in amazement.

"THE Dr. Nikos? I'm honoured to meet someone as awesome and inspiring as you!"

Indicating her companions, Pyrrha took it upon herself to make introductions. "Nora, this is Inspector Jaune Arc of Scotland Yard, and my butler, Lie Ren."

Nora curtsied respectfully.

"Charmed as always, gentlemen."

Ren, for all his travelling and work around London, had never heard an Irish voice before; consequently, he found that this woman's voice enraptured him.

"Now that we're all acquainted," Neptune began, "shall we get to work?"

Nora snapped to attention. "You got it! Let's take some kodaks of the shield first, then see about breaking the shield open!"

* * *

As Nora walked around the counter, Neptune pulled out his kodak-maker and meticulously documented the Eye of Ra's vessel for the next fifteen minutes.

After the kodak taking was complete, the metal workers set to work. Nora quickly noticed a slight square in the middle of the shield.

"I've found the compartment, Neptune; it's located between the two grips are located. Now, how will we get it out?"

Neptune frowned, having had no luck with twisting the grip as a release mechanism. Suddenly, he spotted two small latches were located at diametrically opposite ends of the shield's underside, both lining up with the grip. In perfect sync, Neptune and Nora removed the latches. The two latches detached two oval-like shapes at either end of the shield, and it removed the centre strip from between the grips.

A square container of gold fell from a cavity in the centre. Opening it carefully, the five of them beheld a perfect crystal of ebony Dust; arguably the rarest Dust type in living history. Only one other example was ever found – in a distant mine in the Tibetan mountains – but any who'd gone near it never returned.

"So _this_ is the Eye?", Jaune breathed incredulously.

"A crystal of _ebony_ _Dust!_ ", Pyrrha exclaimed. "My word. What the hell would they want with this?"

Ren contemplated for a moment, before whispering in his employer's ear. "Well," he said uncertainly, "one of the things you-know-who used to preach was that the Eye of Ra would summon a dragon-god of destruction. Not that I believe that for a second, mind you, but it's best to avoid the risk of these idiots actually trying to summon it."

"Where can we store this thing, by the way?", Nora asked quickly.

"Well, I've got crucibles which are designed for storing Dust," Neptune responded; "would that suffice?"

"Yes it would," Jaune affirmed, "but I'd need to store it in a vault at Scotland Yard."

Neptune nodded slowly.

"Well, I'd be willing to sell off a spare, if it's anything. That'll be four pounds, if you please."

Much to Pyrrha's surprise, Nora handed out the cash.

"Here, I'll cover for them."

"My thanks, Nora," said Pyrrha gratefully.

* * *

"So Neptune," Ren enquired, "what shall be done with the shield? It's too valuable to sell off for scrap."

"Indeed," Pyrrha agreed, "even though it's not useful in it's state."

"Why not reforge it with some new bronze and a touch of Dust?"

As one, four heads turned to Jaune with some surprise.

"Well, it would be the best idea. Even if we can't completely restore the shield to what it should be, it could still be used if it was brought up to date."

Neptune nodded sagely. "That's an excellent point. I've got enough bronze in stock to make it work. The question is, who would use it?"

This time, it was Pyrrha's turn to stun her friends.

"I could make use of it. After all, if we retain the cut-off sections on the edges, I'd have an extra line of defence when using my weapon in both rifle-form and sword-form. Also, I wasn't bad at discus throwing as a teenager, so having a sharpened edge lined with cobalt Dust would be useful."

As Neptune was drawing up Pyrrha's requests, Nora came up with a timely suggestion.

"We could also coat it with golden Dust to make it a bit easier to throw, by the way. Bronze shields aren't known for lightness at all."

"Good thinking, Nora," Neptune affirmed, finally settling on the price. "That'll be ten for the reforging, and twenty for the two Dust charges I'll need to use."

"Agreed; here you go, Neptune."

* * *

Pyrrha handed over a fifty pound note, as Jaune began to ask the last question on his mind.

"How long do you reckon this will take?"

Neptune looked up. "I'd say two hours at most. I have Pyrrha's house number with me, so you could always repair there if needed."

Jaune and Pyrrha exchanged glances, then nodded at each other.

"Very well, we'll head there," Pyrrha affirmed. "Nora, would you care to join us for lunch?"

Nora looked indecisive at the idea, glancing at Neptune as she gave voice to her thoughts.

"Well, unless Nep here doesn't need any help …?"

Neptune smiled reassuringly. "I'll be alright, Nora. I'll only need your precision Dust injector for the sharpened edge."

Nora nodded, fishing it out from behind her hammer.

"Here you go, Nep!", she cheerily said as she handed it over. Turning towards the other three, she nodded at Pyrrha.

"I'll be happy to join you three for lunch!"

"Great!", Pyrrha said kindly as Jaune and Ren left the room.

"I'll see you at say, quarter-past two?"

"Suits me fine, Pyrrha," Neptune replied. "I'll have it done for you by then, I promise. See you then!"

* * *

At that moment, Neo was finishing up with the decoration orders that Pyrrha had given her earlier. After processing the last one with the suppliers, Neo relaxed and grabbed her umbrella. _Finally_ , she realised as she stood up and left; _I can cut my losses and get out of here; I sure hope Emerald's hiding within the country._ Unfortunately for her, fate had other plans.

The minute she walked out through the staff entrance, she was spear-tackled to the ground by Qrow. She might have been under five feet in height, but Qrow _wasn't_ taking any chances with the Grimm.

"That's enough. Neo Politana, you are under arrest for the murders of Dr. Arthur Watts and Tyrian Callows. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say will be given in evidence."

Neo scowled angrily as Qrow cuffed and bundled her into a waiting Black Maria, taking her umbrella with him as he hopped out front and joined the groom.

After dropping off Jaune's things at his rooms in Soho, the quartet arrived at Pyrrha's townhouse at twelve-thirty. Ren duly went to the kitchen to prepare the sandwiches, while Pyrrha and Jaune got to know their newest friend.

"So Nora," Jaune began, "what's your story?"

Nora lit up like a fireworks display as she spoke.

"Well, I was born and raised on a farm a few miles west of Galway Bay."

Pyrrha's eyes lit up in nostalgia. "Galway Bay? I've visited that place before; my mother was born there!"

"That's cool!", Nora responded happily. "Anyhow, my uncle took me on as a metallurgist when I hit the age of sixteen. After five years of learning, I moved here and became a huntress."

"So, how come you became a huntress?", Jaune asked curiously.

"Well, I'm pretty handy with a sledgehammer," Nora started, "which is expected when you grow up repairing fences and stonework. So when I finished my studies three years ago, I decided to move to London to gain more worldly experience, and to learn more about the smithing side of things. Indeed, I worked for Neptune for almost a year as his full-time assistant. Then one night, I was walking back home from the nearby bar when I got accosted by a thief. One hefty swing later, and he was nursing two broken legs."

Jaune blanched in pained nostalgia at this. "You're the one who maimed "Puss" Perry in 1887?"

"Oh, _that_ was his name? Anyhow, there was a bounty on him, and I was rewarded handsomely for my trouble. Since then, I never really looked back. I still do some part-time work with Neptune, so I'm always covered with regards to income."

"Well, that's fortunate," Pyrrha said kindly.

"But enough about me," Nora started; "I'd like to know why that shield needed to be broken. That looked _far_ too important to be dealt with so flippantly."

* * *

And as Ren delivered a stack of silverside and salad sandwiches with a pot of Irish breakfast, Pyrrha and Jaune took turns regaling their new friend with the story of the Eye of Ra, and how it's retrieval sparked two murders and the disbandment of the Creatures of Grimm. By the end of it all, Nora was equally enraptured and spooked at what she'd called "a conveyor belt of trauma".

The parlour phone rang at that point, and Pyrrha picked it up as Ren carried the dishes out.

"Hello, Dr. Nikos speaking … Good work, Inspector; I'll let him know about it … Yes, we can, and we will. Talk to you soon."

Placing the receiver in its cradle, Pyrrha turned to Jaune.

"Qrow Branwen just called. He's arrested Neo and will need to help interrogate her. He'd also like the Eye stored as soon as possible; Vault 4 has been secured for that purpose."

Jaune nodded, standing up to fetch his jacket.

"Very well, I'll take my leave and head off to Scotland Yard."

Ren stepped forward at this point, handing a piece of A5 paper over to Jaune.

"These addresses are the places where the remaining members of the Grimm are hiding out. Arresting the bunch of them would be a prudent move at this point."

"Good thinking, Ren," Jaune said encouragingly, "I'll be sure to get that set up with Inspector Branwen."

As Jaune left and peeled off towards the next tube to Westminster with the Eye of Ra, Pyrrha and Nora walked casually down to Hammersmith. As they entered Sea-King Repairs, Neptune walked to the counter and held up the newly-reforged shield. Pyrrha and Nora were amazed into silence at his craftsmanship, as always.

"Here she is, ladies. I've called her Akoúo̱, as a counterpart to Miló. As you can see, it's a dipylon-styled shield. I've gone and added everything you could ask for. There's just one thing, though."

"What is it?"

Neptune's expression had shifted to one of worry. "Throwing the shield causes the grips to detach easily. They can slot back on easily enough, and a simple bash doesn't have any bad effects on its stability. I just wish I knew how to fix the problem quickly."

Pyrrha's eyes duly lit up in inspiration. "I've got an idea …"

* * *

Half an hour and five pounds later, Pyrrha had incorporated her whip into the design. The handle was built into the grip, whilst the tail was welded into the interior of the shield. The whip itself was elastic already, and now functioned as a leash for Akoúo̱.

The minute they arrived home, the phone rang. Pyrrha darted into the parlour and grabbed the receiver.

"Hello, Dr. Nikos speaking."

"Hello Pyrrha, it's Jaune. Has the shield been reforged?"

"Yes, it's just been finished!"

"Good to hear. I'd like you to know that we're set to hunt down the remaining Grimm. Neo's threatened reprisals for her arrest, so I'd feel much better if you were to go on holiday until it's finished."

"Well, if you insist. What time should I return?"

"Sunday would be best, I think."

"Very well. Is that all?"

"Actually, I'd like to hand you my home phone number."

"Hang on, I'll get some paper."

* * *

Leaning away from the receiver, Pyrrha called out to her butler.

"Ren? Could you retrieve a pencil and Jaune's business card?"

"Sure thing; I'll be a minute."

As Ren trotted upstairs, Pyrrha decided to talk further.

"By the way Jaune, how come you want me to have your number?"

"Well, ah," Jaune started uncertainly, "I - I didn't want to stop talking to you once the case was finished, that's all. I value your company quite highly, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha blushed at that; ever since she'd met him, Pyrrha had grown to enjoy his gentle, compassionate company as well. The fact that she had subconsciously developed feelings for him also helped.

"Why, thanks Jaune. I dare say I've come to do the same for you, really."

As Ren returned with the implements, Pyrrha cradled the receiver in her left shoulder as her left hand picked up the pencil.

"Okay Jaune, I'm ready to jot down your number. What is it?"

As Pyrrha began to write on the back of Jaune's card, Nora sidled up to Ren, leaned into his ear and whispered, "When do you think they'll book their June wedding?"

Ren remained stoic, in deference to his employer, but nonetheless indulged the Irish huntress with an answer.

"As soon as they realise their feelings," he whispered drily.

Nora smirked and resisted the urge to start laughing as Pyrrha hung up her phone.

* * *

As they sat down, Nora's smirk vanished; she noticed that Pyrrha looked incredibly sullen. "Is there something wrong, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha looked up. "Well, not exactly. It's just that Jaune recommended the idea of getting away for a few days while the Grimm situation blows over."

Ren nodded sagely. "That's a reasonable suggestion; taking a holiday on the coast would be an idea. I'd be happy to look after the place with Coco while you're off, for the record."

"Ren's got a good point," Nora added. "It would be a perfect opportunity for you to recover from this macabre business."

"That might be true, Nora," Pyrrha conceded, "but there's so much to do at the museum, what with Dr. Watts dead and Neo arrested, I'm not sure Exham would be keen to allow me the privilege of taking time off."

"I can help you there," Nora offered. "I've been hired to go to northern Scotland tomorrow to retrieve some stolen Viking artifacts; they're being guarded by a gang of thieves. If you went along with me to help complete the job and took kodaks of the artifacts for the museum, I'm sure they'd allow it heartily!"

Pyrrha nodded, a warm smile forming on her features. "My thanks, Nora. I'll clear it with my superiors and head out with you whenever you're ready."

The Irishwoman smiled eagerly at her. "Glad to hear it! I'll be catching a flight from Croydon at 9 tomorrow morning, and should arrive at Inverness around 2 that afternoon. I won't be due to return until Sunday, and just in time for the solar eclipse on Tuesday."

Rising out of her seat, she handed Pyrrha her card.

"Anyway, I'd better be going, Pyrrha. I'm due to assemble some more grenades for the expedition, and Neptune's bringing me dinner tonight. Anyway, thanks for the lunch; I'll see you later!"

"Indeed," Pyrrha replied warmly, "I'm looking forward to the trip."

As Nora was shown out by Ren, Pyrrha rang up Exham Museum and let them know about her plans. Fortuitously, they agreed to her request, and she spent the night cleaning her weapons and packing for her next adventure.

That same evening, the albino woman arrived in the French port town of Calais. Having holed up in a cheap hotel room, she was _furious_ with her luck at this point. Due to the storms along the French coastline, the ferries over to England had shut up shop until the following Tuesday afternoon, when the storms were supposed to clear.

 _The traitor had better be thankful for this reprieve_ , she ruminated angrily, _because I'll be glad to bring her to her knees once I cross over_.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm back!**

 **First thing's first, the title translates to "Send In The Blacksmith", and the song for this chapter is "Strange Little Girl" by The Stranglers. Not because Nora ends up like the character in that song, but because their origins are pretty similar.**

 **Second, this chapter and the one following it have proven to be extremely challenging to come up with - mainly due to me finding Nora's character surprisingly tough to write. Hence why I took a week's break to figure that out. The rest of the chapters are getting there.**

 **Thirdly, I managed to get over a thousand views so far, and at least 20 followers. I'd like to say thanks to all of you for giving some love to the story, and especially to the AU's creator, DezoPenguin, for his reviews.**

 **Fourth, I'd like to clarify that incorporating the whip into** **Akoúo̱** **allows Pyrrha to make the shield return to her hand like her Semblance did in canon.**

 **And last, who else enjoys the idea of Irish Nora?**

 **Anyhow, I'm not sure how frequently the next chapters will come, but I'll try to match the speed I set in the first spell. See you next time!**


	7. Septemtrionis Venatibus, Meridionali Exc

Chapter Seven: Septemtrionis Venatibus, Meridionali Excursiones.

Friday, the 1st of November, 1889.

Croydon Airport was bustling with passengers at eight-thirty the following morning. Nora and Pyrrha strode onto the dirigible to Inverness confidently. Pyrrha wore her safari suit, with a short maroon cloak hiding Miló and Akoúo̱ from prying eyes. Nora, meanwhile, wore a salmon pink hunting costume over a white shirtwaist. As per usual, her white riding boots took pride of place on her feet. As they were seated in the first class area at the front of the ship, Pyrrha and Nora were greeted by a middle-aged waiter with an inordinate amount of wax in his hair.

"Good morning, ladies; may I take any orders for refreshments?"

Pyrrha noted that the man spoke impassively, showing the barest hint of disdain for the pair's manner of dress. Regarding the menu handed to her, Pyrrha spotted her favoured drink.

"For drinks, a pot of Irish breakfast will do nicely. Right Nora?"

"Agreed, Pyrrha. As for the food … ah yes, a bacon-and-egg sandwich. That'll suit me just fine."

The waiter nodded as he jotted down the order, then looked at Pyrrha.

"Any food for you, madam?"

Pyrrha's mouth cocked on one side, indicating her contemplation.

"I would have … yes, I'll have a cucumber sandwich."

"Very well. That'll be five pounds all up, please."

* * *

Pyrrha _narrowly avoided_ blowing her top at the inflated price; thankfully, Nora had received an advance from her benefactor and covered the cost. _That's daylight robbery if I'm any judge_ , Pyrrha ruminated angrily as the waiter walked towards the kitchen behind them. Calming down a notch, she turned to her companion.

"Nora, what papers are on offer this morning?"

Nora got up.

"I'll check for you at the stands out front; which one do you want?"

"Either the Daily Standard or the Manchester Guardian will do; I sorely doubt they've got the Morning Star out here."

Nora nodded, walking down to the stands. A minute later, Nora returned with all three papers. Keeping the Daily Standard for herself, she handed the other two over to her.

"You didn't need to take all three of these."

"Well, they had the Star on board as well. I wasn't sure if you were the sort to be caught dead reading it, so I took the other two in case you wanted something to hide it in."

"That's thoughtful," Pyrrha admitted as she hid the Star within the Manchester Guardian. At that moment, the teapot arrived on its tray with two cups, spoons and saucers, along with a small jug of milk and ten cubes of sugar. Much to Pyrrha's shock (if not outright disgust), Nora placed four of the cubes inside her black tea and drank a third of her cup in one swoop.

"Mm, that's good stuff," Nora murmured appreciatively. "No doubt the food will be better than the fare I had before I left."

Pyrrha gave Nora an incredulous expression. "You're eating _again_ after a decent breakfast? What gives, Nora!?"

Nora never could manage a _truly_ indignant prim expression, but she came damned close on this occasion.

"There's good reason in high society to eat at nine o'clock."

"And there's no good reason to unleash a 'Technicolour Yawn' at half-past," muttered Pyrrha under her breath as the food arrived.

* * *

After Nora finished her second breakfast, she turned to face Pyrrha who was still going through her first.

"Out of curiosity, what side of the Midlands did you grow up in?"

Pyrrha shifted her bespectacled gaze to meet Nora's.

"I hail from Shropshire, between Birmingham and the Welsh border. I was raised specifically in one of the country houses there."

Nora's face resembled a bowling ball at this point, with her mouth forming a perfect O-shape.

"Oooh, that's interesting. What on Earth does one usually get up to in those parts?"

"Well, as my father used to say, 'when you live in a town, you amuse yourself. When you live in the country, you amuse other people.' By that, he usually meant our neighbours."

Nora nodded; that observation held true in her part of Ireland.

"Too true. Did you get nice neighbours in your part of Shropshire?"

Pyrrha snorted. "On the contrary; my neighbours were exceedingly boring."

Nora chuckled. "Oh, aren't they ever?, Why, English people are so stiff, you'd find better conversationalists in a graveyard."

Several aristocratic heads turned around at the sight of Dr. Pyrrha Nikos falling off her seat, in the throes of a _monumental_ burst of laughter. _At last_ , she realised as she sat back down with the Guardian, _I'm glad I don't **just** have Coco for humourous company. Meeting Nora was an absolute godsend_.

* * *

At that moment, the clock struck nine. The dirigible was released from its moorings at that point, with the crew having long since fired up the engines and turbines. It slowly manoeuvred to port, then promptly peeled off northwards in a beeline to Manchester. After refuelling there, it stopped for the same at Edinburgh, then set off to the northern-most major town of Inverness. By two that afternoon, the huntress and the archaeologist had debarked from the dirigible.

Nora led Pyrrha to the nearest hotel from the airfield, and promptly checked in. As they entered a room with two single beds, the pair emptied out their weapons and materials onto their respective beds. Once they were finished, Pyrrha and Nora found themselves eyeing each other's choice in artillery.

"What's with those weird explosives?", Nora asked first.

Pyrrha followed Nora's gaze, spying her SNC charges. "They're mining charges. Combination of sienna and crimson Dust. If I make a hole in, say, a wall of rock surrounding a vein of ore and set it off, the rocks implode into an ash pile and the ores remain untouched. Comes in real handy when excavating something."

Nora nodded, a look of appreciation having adorned her features.

"That's ingenuity right there. Spying my dust grenades, are you?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Right enough, Nora. What sort of Dust do you put in them?"

"The Dust that I infuse my grenades with is a mixture of my own design, combining both ivory and crimson Dust powders in even proportions. A dissolution in salt water was used to bring the powders together, and it's a highly viscous liquid."

Pyrrha's eyes bulged in their sockets. "You're a greater genius than even _I_ surmised; what difference did the ivory Dust make to the crimson?"

"The end result was a substance that provided about three quarters as much damage as pure crimson dust did, but enabled my grenades to have a bigger blast radius. However, they're only used for taking out targets at a safe distance. If close-quarters fighting is a must, then my trusty warhammer, Magnhild, gets used instead. I'll show you if you like."

* * *

Before Pyrrha could respond, the latter picked up her smithing hammer and held down a pressure plate halfway up the haft. A sectioned column of case-hardened steel sprang downward, rendering the hammer four and a half feet long – almost as tall as it's wielder – and the use of an oversized hammerhead was suddenly justified. Pyrrha was _astonished_ , to put it mildly.

"Well, that's a sure-fire way of dealing with thieves! And out of curiosity, Nora, how come you settled on ivory and crimson dust for your grenades? Didn't you try mixing other natural Dust types with the artificial variety?"

Nora screwed up her face in concentration. "Yes, I did, but they didn't work half as well in the field as this combination did. Sienna didn't do much good for me at all, same for the azure – all the ivory did was create lakes of cold water or mud. Brass created small whirlwinds which proved to be uncontrollable, verdant created a bolt of chained lightning which wasn't agreeable to my coiffure. Cobalt and violet merely increased the field size of repulsion and attraction – which, trust me, wasn't that helpful for me in the field – and that left me with crimson dust. Hence the creation of what I call fuch-sia Dust."

Pyrrha gingerly broke the resultant silence.

"Nora, you might have pronounced that word … incorrectly."

"How do you mean? I saw it spelled that way in a dictionary … oh _beggorah_ , I've just realised what you mean; my feckless mouth strikes again! What's it's actual pronunciation?"

Pyrrha softly chuckled. "Basically, it's like the word 'future', but with an 'sh' sound in place of the T."

"Ah, right."

"Anyway, what's the situation regarding the relics?"

* * *

At that precise moment in time, fifteen uniformed policemen left Great Scotland Yard to conduct what was arguably going to be the sting of the year. Inspectors Arc and Branwen had led the men towards a fleet of five Black Marias, and they all peeled off in a convoy towards the southern end of London. Arc and Branwen sat in front, with one of Inspector Branwen's subordinates in each of the other Marias.

When they crossed Waterloo Bridge, they separated. Jaune led the first two Marias down Waterloo Road, the third Maria turned eastward onto Southwark Street, and the last two went southwest on the Albert Embankment – separating when the last one went down Nine Elms Lane instead of South Lambeth Road. This last Black Maria was also the first to reach its intended target; a disused tenement building on Falcon Road in Battersea.

Within the ground floor bedsit, the oldest pair of mercenaries were sleeping off a hangover when the door was kicked down. It was easy pickings for the youngest two cops to cuff and remove the offenders. It was even easier for the Special Branch sergeant accompanying them to find evidence of their membership; the masks and explosives had been ineptly stashed in a cupboard.

While the two drunkards were hauled off, a public house overlooking the Brixton market was the next to be raided. A group of three young, unassuming men were dragged away from the pub's stock room by four officers, with Constable Heyman among their number. The weapons stash they were shifting was quickly spotted within several beer kegs, and both the stash and the mercenaries were swiftly bundled out the service entrance and into the fourth Black Maria, which promptly sped off towards the Yard.

Meanwhile, the Todd and Son's barbershop in Borough Road, Newington was raided by the third Black Maria. Constable Burns kicked down the door, and swarmed in with his junior partner and Branwen's deputy. A grizzly, middle-aged barber and his young, beanpole-thin apprentice were read their rights and led out in cuffs, much to the consternation of their half-shaved clients, with the Special Branch sergeant finding a cornucopia of throwing knives and cleavers among the piles of razor blades.

* * *

And finally, the top floor of a block of flats opposite Burgess Park in Old Kent Road was where the last six Creatures of Grimm were hiding out. The floor contained two pairs of apartments, either side of a staircase and atrium; unbeknownst to the landlords, the occupants had removed the interior walls separating the northern pair of flats, rendering the floor a safe meeting place for the anarchists … or so they thought.

"Let this meeting come to order," said the unofficial leader, a man of forty with ginger hair. After the others gathered around the large dining table, the leader picked up a clipboard with his agenda and began to read through it.

"First thing's first; both the majordomo and the last assassin have disappeared."

The table gasped; if they'd been caught or killed, then they were next in line.

"And secondly, the three outlying groups reported in yesterday evening; they intend to move their respective operations to this residence in the coming week. Thankfully, the flats opposite have been vacated, so it wouldn't be much trouble for them to swan in when the time comes."

The doors were promptly smashed down, and nine lawmen trained their pistols on the mercenaries before they realised what had happened.

After the suspects were bundled into their vans, Jaune and Qrow remained behind with two uniformed officers to catalogue the stockpile of weapons, Dust, and explosives that the Grimm had managed to scrounge over the preceding three weeks. It took three hours to remove and list it all.

* * *

After processing the offenders, Jaune took the weekend off, instructing Branwen's deputies to carry out the interrogations of the foot soldiers. He'd spent the preceding day planning out the raids and compiling a preliminary report, and was consequently in urgent need of respite.

Qrow Branwen, meanwhile, had spent most of the last twenty-four hours trying to interrogate the previous day's arrest. Neo Politana was, to put it mildly, a basket case who had hidden in plain sight.

Giving up, he walked to Jaune's chief inspector; a burly, tall man with a gravelly voice.

"Inspector Arc's just telephoned me; according to his informant, we've captured all the remaining Creatures of Grimm."

Qrow exhaled deeply in relief. "That's excellent news. However, I need help with getting information out of Neo Politana; she's a job lot for the madhouses, she is. Have you got any ideas?"

The tall man stroked his chin, and pondered on their next course of action.

"I'll tell you what," he started; "I'll go in and do what I usually do to maniacs, then call you in five minutes after I'm done."

Qrow shuddered; he'd heard a number of unpleasant rumours about the man's methods, but they'd almost always worked. "If you must; I'll be on the bench by the staircases if I'm needed."

The tall man nodded as Qrow walked off with hip flask in hand, then entered the interrogation room. Neo balanced giddily on the chair, with an equally unbalanced smile plastered on her face.

"So, what do _you_ want to say, mister big-shot?"

* * *

Saturday, the 2nd of November, 1889.

At nine the following morning, Pyrrha and Nora sailed across the Moray Firth for their quarry, in full hunting regalia. Said quarry had proven to be a steamboat anchored halfway between the docks of Inverness and the entrance to the North Sea, with the prow of the ship facing the latter. Nora's contacts had provided them with a simple rowing boat for them to use, along with descriptions of the relics: they were a quartet of golden amulets dating from the 10th century.

In their opinion, finding the things would be no easy matter. Fortunately, the pair of women had been given _carte blanche_ to take whatever else they pleased from the ship in addition to the three hundred pounds they were set to be paid. Given that their marks were thieves, today's pay day would be reasonable if Pyrrha and Nora divided the spoils evenly. As they approached the stern, Nora spotted their means of entry.

"Pyrrha, do you see that ladder on the starboard side of the ship?"

Pyrrha craned her neck around. "Yes. We're entering the ship that way, are we?"

Nora nodded as the rowing boat pulled up at the ladder in question. Without hesitation, Pyrrha latched the boat onto the bottom rung of the ladder, and pulled herself up with Nora following closely behind. The ladder itself ended on the upper deck, which was eerily silent. Pyrrha quickly drew Miló and Akoúo̱, and stood guard as Nora boarded the ship. With eight grenades in a pouch over her right hip and Magnhild fully extended, Nora led the way into the heart of the ship.

The first port of call for the pair was the bridge. They noticed straight away that it was completely stripped down, with the controls for steering and propulsion the only devices left intact. As Nora scoured the room, Pyrrha noticed an irregularity in the woodwork on the floor. Locating the edges, Pyrrha lifted up a panel two feet wide and long, and beheld the amulets astride a slab of copper.

Nora skipped towards the hole and quickly scooped up the amulets, stuffing them into a small burlap sack once she realised they were genuine. Pyrrha had an idea regarding the copper, and therefore removed the slab. She then unveiled one of her SNC charges and placed it in the rabbit hole.

Nora, for good measure, placed two of her grenades alongside it, and tied a piece of fishing line to both the pins, with the other end rigged to the trapdoor. This wouldn't kill the thieves, for sure, but it would make things … _inconvenient_ for them.

* * *

However, at that exact moment, their good fortune betrayed them. As it happened. the trio of thieves involved had taken to changing the watch every eight hours. The man previously on the upper decks had just started to walk down to the bilge when Pyrrha and Nora started climbing up the ladder, and the changeover took long enough for the pair of women to locate the stash. So that meant that a burly, six-foot-eight Scotsman chanced upon the women as they began to close the stash.

With their backs turned, he pulled a foot-long knife and crept up behind the woman in salmon pink … only for her to roll towards the right at the last second, pick up Magnhild and smack the assailant in his stomach.

The sudden noise startled Pyrrha, and she spun around with her weapons to find the Scotsman brawling with Nora. _Well_ , Pyrrha thought as she readied Akoúo̱, _better give this discus trick a shot_. She flung her shield with the grip in hand, with it sliding off perfectly and knocking out the burly man with a sharp hit to his left temple. However, the clang of the shield awoke the other two thieves. As Nora picked the man's pockets and Pyrrha retrieved her copper and weapons, they heard loud footsteps from below.

"Shall we run, Nora?"

Nora nodded, and they sprinted off the way they came. As they ran past the door, the two younger thieves entered the bridge from the port side of the ship and spotted their boss sprawled on the floor. While the younger man woke up his boss, the female thief ran to check the rabbit hole. When she opened it, she found herself staring at two grenades and a mining charge which had just activated.

Although Pyrrha's SNC charges were tailored specifically for stonework, it still had the ability to shatter wooden frames over a wide area. This, combined with the blast of the two fuchsia Dust grenades, caused the front half of the ship to be completely stripped of its wooden components, with only the steel superstructure still intact. This caused the three thieves to fall straight into the water, and gave Nora and Pyrrha cause to take a running jump into their rowing boat.

The local coast guards, who'd been tipped off to the thieves earlier, scrambled to retrieve the offenders, while Pyrrha and Nora returned to shore.

* * *

"You know," Nora said earnestly as they checked out of their hotel, "you'd make for an excellent huntress."

Pyrrha smiled warmly at this. "Why thanks, Nora. It wasn't bad, though a little too exhilarating for my tastes. I'll bear that in mind if my career goes nowhere."

As the pair made it to Inverness Airfield, Nora asked a question that had been bugging her ever since she'd met Pyrrha.

"If you don't mind me asking, how come you haven't started snogging Jaune yet?"

Pyrrha's face went fish-eyed as she gasped and fainted.

At four that same afternoon, Pyrrha and Nora returned to Croydon Airport. By this point, Pyrrha had realised that Nora's point was somewhat well-founded. _Jaune's done his best to look out for me_ , Pyrrha realised, _but I now know part of the reason why he did that for me. To be honest, his chivalry and concern wasn't unwelcome through this week … and I realise now that I miss having that there_. Taking a train to the city, they arrived just before a quarter to five at a gentleman's club on Queen Victoria's Street. Waiting outside were a pair of nondescript men in grey suits and polarised glasses.

"I'll approach them," Nora advised, and left Pyrrha to wait while she handed over the amulets. The men looked them over, nodded at each other, and gave Nora the three hundred pound reward. She waved as they left, and Pyrrha walked up to her for her share of the money.

"Even split, Nora?"

Nora nodded vigorously.

"Sure thing, Pyrrha." Now that the exchange of cash and relics was completed, both women walked to the Mansion House station and caught the District tube. As the tube made it to Kensington High Street however, Pyrrha handed Nora a note along with the thick slab of copper she'd recovered.

"What's all this for?", Nora enquired. Pyrrha's gaze locked with Nora's, and her tone was fair, yet strangely uncompromising.

"Hand the copper and the note to Neptune – it's for his eyes only." Nora looked apprehensive for several seconds, then nodded in concession.

"Very well, Pyrrha. I'll be sure to hand it in on my way home tonight." Nora then waved goodbye as Pyrrha walked off the tube and made it home for dinner.

* * *

Sunday, the 3rd of November, 1889.

The following evening, Jaune was called into a meeting with Inspector Branwen.

"What's new, Inspector?"

Qrow finished his glass of scotch and began speaking.

"Both the chief inspector and I have finished interrogating, charging and transporting off the suspects. The mercenaries have all readily confessed to various crimes that they undertook as part of the Creatures of Grimm, so they won't be escaping justice any time soon. However, there were a number of snags."

Jaune's right eyebrow cocked upwards.

"How do you mean?"

"None of the marks confessed to the murders we were investigating; additionally, none of them were identified as the majordomo. And furthermore, the interrogation of Neo was … problematic. The phrase 'basket case' doesn't do her state of mind any justice. Nevertheless, she claimed full and sole responsibility for the murders of Dr. Watts and Tyrian Callows, between her fits of rambling."

Jaune looked taken aback at this.

* * *

"That doesn't make any sense. Watts's butler saw a second person enter alongside Neo. He was more muscular than the spindly freak who got hanged, and none of the others confessed to committing the crime. Furthermore, we also don't know where the majordomo's gotten to, and Ren claimed that said majordomo was responsible for handing them that order."

Qrow shook his head. "Look kid, even if you're right, the fact we nabbed the rest of the Grimm will give us a clear conscience. And while I'd like to follow up your lead to be safe, I can't go against the chief inspector either. He thinks that Tyrian was responsible for planning the murder along with Neo, and she said as much when I interrogated her."

Jaune's frustration palpably increased. "Well, why would she pretend to be the majordomo, give Tyrian an order to kill Watts, yet stroll in and murder him anyway? And furthermore, why the hell would Tyrian be sane enough to plan that and _not_ take the chance of killing Watts himself? You were there when he attacked Pyrrha, for Pete's sake!"

Qrow held his hands up defensively.

"I know, but Special Branch has ordered me to defer to your Chief Inspector in this case; additionally, said chief inspector has decided to credit me alone for arresting the Grimm." Jaune _barely_ held his temper in check as Qrow's expression softened. "As much as I don't like having to shut things off prematurely, _or_ having to answer to the regulars, I have absolutely no choice in the matter. I'm sorry, Jaune."

Jaune gave Qrow a two-fingered salute as he left the room.

"No doubt you're _proud_ to take all the credit for my work, you _boozy piece of **shit!**_ ", he snarled nastily over his shoulder.

Walking rigidly with murder in his eyes, Jaune silently fumed as he made his way over to the cab rank outside Scotland Yard.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the late upload; I had to rewrite the plot for this chapter considerably. The title translates to "Northern Hunts, Southern Raids", and the soundtrack is "Dirty Creature" by Split Enz - which seems appropriate, given the Firth's proximity to Loch Ness.**

 **Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the references I mixed in this time, as well as the chapter itself. As far as the other chapters go, the eighth one will likely be quickly released, with the ninth one probably taking as long as this chapter did to write. The last two are basically done, so they won't take too long. Either way, I'll be finished before the month is out.**


	8. Tempus Ut Upgrade

Chapter Eight: Tempus Ut Upgrade

Monday, the 4th of November, 1889.

It's a universal rule that the first day of the working week is the most hated of all – on planet Earth, that meant that Mondays were not looked forward to by most people, much less enjoyed. However, in the case of Inspector Jaune Arc, this particular Monday proved to be _especially_ difficult. As he was getting dressed at seven that morning, his phone rang out.

" _Curses_ ," Jaune groused as he ran to his living room, "who could be ringing me now?"

He picked up the receiver in the middle of the fifth ring.

"Hello, Jaune Arc speaking."

"Jaune, it's your mother."

The shaky tones of Xanthe Arc rang alarm bells in Jaune's head.

"Mother, what's happened?"

His mother sobbed into the phone as she spoke her answer.

"Y-your grandfather, General Augustus Arc, has p-passed in his sleep."

Half an hour later, a rather frazzled Jaune joined his mother outside his grandfather's town house in Earl's Court. No words were spoken, and the grim pair walked in with Xanthe leaning on Jaune's shoulder. Meeting him in the foyer were his greying father, Colonel Sir Noirtier Arc, and the General's physician, Dr. Peach. The latter walked forward to greet them.

"Inspector Arc, my condolences are with you and your kin."

Jaune nodded respectfully towards the woman.

"My thanks, doctor."

* * *

Turning to his father, Jaune made but one enquiry.

"Have my sisters been informed of this?"

Noirtier looked as stern as he usually did, and replied in a comparable tone of voice.

"Opal, Bridget, Sienna, and Jennifer have all been informed, while Silvia, Muriel, and Violet will be informed after their lessons today."

Jaune nodded. "Very well."

"By the way, doctor," Xanthe asked, "did the General leave a will?"

Dr. Peach nodded quickly. "Indeed he did; I bore witness to it personally, and I have it on my person. Shall I read it out to you?"

The three Arcs exchanged glances, then nodded in perfect synchronisation, and Dr. Peach read out from the letter.

"On this day, the 29th of February, 1889, I, General Augustus Lancelot Arc, hereby sign and declare my last will and testimony. I have named my physician, Dr. Alexandra Beverley Peach, as the witness to this will, and she has signed at the bottom of the document. My kinsmen will receive the following shares. To my only child, Colonel Sir Noirtier Gawaine Arc, I hand over the ownership of both my country house in Buckinghamshire where he currently resides, in addition to my town house at Earl's Court – but the latter comes with the caveat that he must allow my wife, Natalie June Arc, to reside within it if she is still living at the time of my death."

The three Arcs grimaced at this; the common cold had accounted for her just before last Easter. Flashing them an expression of sympathy, Dr. Peach continued reading.

"To my seven grand-daughters, I leave one-eighth of my fortune each, which can only be claimed when they are married. Until then, it will be held in trust."

Noirtier nodded approvingly; although his eldest three daughters were already married to respectable gentlemen amongst the aristocracy, he still cared enough for them and his younger four daughters to ensure their financial well-being.

"And to my lone grandson, Inspector Jaune Gareth Arc, I bequeath two things. First of these is the last eighth of my fortune, which is to be held in trust until the day he gets married, at which point he shall receive it. And second, I bequeath the ancestral weapon of my family, Crocea Mors."

The two remaining men of the Arc family did _not_ take the news well. Jaune was fine with inheriting the sword, but he damned well knew that his rotten luck with women more or less put him out of contention for his share of the fortune. Noirtier, meanwhile, was _furious_ with this decision on both counts. Xanthe Arc quickly ushered Dr. Peach out of the room, while Noirtier fired the opening salvo at full shouting volume.

* * *

" _ **What the devil**_ _made my father think a_ _ **scrawny runt**_ _like_ _ **you**_ _deserve a weapon and fortune like that, eh?!_ "

To his credit, Jaune kept calm, and steeled his eyes as he returned his father's glare.

"Let's see; there's the fact that I'm the youngest person to have ever made it to the rank of Inspector in the whole of England's constabulary; there's the fact that I had a hand in apprehending the ones responsible for the Clockwork Pavilion disaster, and I was also responsible for busting the Phantom Gentleman last month."

Noirtier's eyes widened in equal wrath and amazement.

" _You're_ the officer who did that? Of _course_ a man reckless enough to cause a dirigible to violently crash into the Thames deserves Crocea Mors instead of me, a decorated war hero."

Jaune, retrieving the offending sword and shield from the wall, gave a remark that hit Noirtier where it hurt.

"Yes, a man who protects the innocent was found to be more deserving of an heirloom than a brute who massacred Zulus by the thousands, helped enslave all that remained, and called it 'civilising lesser men and lesser nations'."

Noirtier fell into a stunned silence, his face contorting into the demonic visage he used whenever he battled spear-wielders with his guns. Finally, a low growl came from his teeth.

"... just leave."

Jaune nodded sternly, and marched on out. The cabs that had taken his mother and him there were preparing to leave, but Jaune managed to get one to take him back to Soho. When he arrived in the foyer, Jaune rung Superintendent Blackford and informed him about what had happened.

"Don't worry about coming in," his boss had assured, "I'll give you today and tomorrow off to grieve as you see fit."

As he made it inside his set of rooms, the phone rang again. Picking it up without running this time, Jaune set aside any grief in his voice as he placed the sword on the table, then retrieved the receiver.

"Hello, Jaune Arc speaking."

"Jaune? It's Dr. Pyrrha Nikos here. Would you be free tomorrow afternoon, perchance?"

* * *

Tuesday, the 5th of November, 1889.

At four the following afternoon, the first ferry to Dover after the French storms arrived to port. Amongst the masses of passengers strode the albino woman. Having started to run short on her funds, she decided to be quick about making it to London.

To her consternation, the most recent dirigible had taken off already, and its replacement wouldn't be due for another hour. An hour she couldn't afford to wait around for. Making her way to the Dover Priory train station, the woman was stared at by a number of curious people as she strode on purposefully. She pointedly ignored them all as she bought her ticket.

Having boarded the newly-arrived train, the albino found herself drawn to the Eye's pull from afar. Given that she was someone who'd extensively used it, she knew instantly that the shield had been broken – and this served only to fuel her anger.

As she realised this, a waitress walked past with The Times. "Unpredicted Solar Eclipse Occurring This Afternoon," read the headline.

 _A solar eclipse?_ , the albino pondered, _why does that strike me as important … no,_ _ **no**_ _,_ _ **NO!**_ _I need to get there at all due haste; I will NOT allow that traitor to use the Eye so recklessly!_

At that precise moment, the train took off for its ninety-minute journey to the heart of London.

 _I guess the train's speed is all I can ask for now_ , the woman conceded hesitantly; _I can only hope I get there in time_.

* * *

At the same point in time, Pyrrha's Kensington home was being prepared for Guy Fawkes Night, before Watts's funeral tomorrow. Pyrrha and Coco usually hosted dinner for Dr. Watts and Miss Politana. Being the covert rebels they were, they'd always have a sociable night in where all manner of fun was poked at Victorian morality and mores. This year though, one of them was dead, and the other was likely condemned to the same. However, that didn't mean that Pyrrha was short on guests.

Far from it, in fact.

Just after two that afternoon, Jaune knocked on the door with Crocea Mors in his left hand.

"Up for fencing practice, Pyrrha?", he asked as she answered the door.

Pyrrha chuckled softly as she smiled at him.

"That I am, Jaune. I'll retrieve Miló and Akoúo̱ from my workshop and meet you in the back garden."

As Jaune walked outside through the spacious kitchen to limber up, Ren approached Pyrrha with his usual stoic manner as she ascended the stairs. "Pyrrha, he's mourning someone."

Pyrrha cocked her left eyebrow in suspicion.

"How do you know this, Ren? He isn't wearing anything to mark him out on that front."

Ren pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I was reading The Times this morning and saw his grandfather's name within the obituaries."

Pyrrha held her nerve, though her empathy was evident on her face.

"Poor man," Pyrrha said finally, "but how come he was hiding his grief from me when I rang him yesterday?"

Ren pondered this for a moment. "Well, offering dinner and fencing practice likely cheered him up a bit. Though it may also be due to who was offering it."

Pyrrha didn't miss the hint Ren had shot her; much to his surprise, she didn't react adversely.

"Maybe. I'll try my best to help him through this; after all, he did the same for me when Watts got killed."

Ren nodded, and handed Miló and Akoúo̱ to his employer.

"Will you join us Ren?"

Ren shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Pyrrha. Ms. Adel wants me to help prepare the meals for tonight. In any case, Ms. Valkyrie volunteered to spar against me after dinner."

"Fair enough, Ren. I'll get to it then."

* * *

Making her way outside with a pair of fencing suits, she beheld Jaune's new weapon as they donned the white armour sets and masks.

"That's an impressive weapon set, Jaune; what is it called?"

"Crocea Mors, which means 'yellow death' in Latin. Of course, the first Arc to wield it named it after the sword Julius Caesar used."

Once again, Pyrrha was surprised pleasantly at Jaune's intellectual depth.

"Never took you for a man of the classics, Jaune."

Jaune blushed nervously. "Well, they were my favourite subjects at Eton."

Pyrrha smirked. "Obviously, Cambridge's classics faculty wasn't half as good as the Etonian one; you'd be an academic instead of a policeman if it was – and even then, Oxford's was better."

Jaune scoffed at this notion, and repaid the snark twofold. "Spoken like a first-rate Oxford moron."

Coco, who observed the repartee from behind the kitchen window, was laughing immoderately at Jaune's ludicrousness, and even Ren was nursing a smile. They both knew where Jaune's words came from; in this instance, it wasn't his mouth. Nevertheless, it had the desired effect of getting a rise out of Pyrrha.

Holding Miló in sword form in her right hand and Akoúo̱ on her left, she matched Jaune's fighting stance.

"Is that so? Well, translate this for me, master historian; _inter arma enim silent leges_."

Unwisely, Jaune started translating Cicero without looking.

"In times of war, the l-AUGH!"

Pyrrha had knocked him flat on his back with a well-timed discus trick from Akoúo̱.

"Falls silent," she sardonically completed.

Grousing under his breath, Jaune jumped up and re-oriented himself.

"I may not be as educated as you, but I'll have you know that I've studied fencing for years. Prepare for humiliation."

He lunged forward and started fighting.

* * *

Pyrrha was put on the defensive instantly as Jaune's swordsmanship revealed itself. Although Pyrrha was likely a better shot than Jaune with a rifle and had some experience with callisthenics, she found her swordplay outmatched by Jaune at many turns. He parried her blows expertly, thrusted his sword quickly, and moved with a composure that belied his appearance and build – even if he did lack movement speed somewhat.

However, Pyrrha noticed that his shield-work was rather primitive in comparison, and she resolved to defend his attack before she saw an opportunity to fight against Jaune's weakness. Eventually, after half an hour of sparring, he inexpertly tried to knock Pyrrha off-balance with his shield, only for her to roll underneath it and kick Jaune to the ground.

"Bollocks!", he cried as he hit the lawn.

As she stood back and took off her fencing gear, Pyrrha noticed that Jaune's eyes were anguished and ridden with pain.

 _Wait a minute_ , Pyrrha thought abruptly, _his grandfather's death must have dragged him near his father again … and was the sword part of it somehow? I guess I'll find out later_.

Just before the clock chimed five, Nora Valkyrie arrived. The hunting costume she wore today was rosé pink, and her riding boots had been polished for the occasion. Before joining in with the festivities, she handed Ren a package and asked him if she could leave some things in the workshop upstairs. As they returned into the dining room, Coco called out to the guests.

"Dinner is served, my friends. Come and join in!"

The selection that Coco and Ren had put out was modest, yet impressive. A whole pile of corned beef with carving knife and mustard at the ready stood in the middle of the table. A whole kilogram of mashed potatoes sat next to it, with a Greek salad and a tray of roasted carrots and parsnips completing the meal.

As usual, a pot of Irish breakfast with a milk jug stood fast near Pyrrha's seat at the table, and a bottle of Burgundy chardonnay was kept on ice for any guests who desired alcohol for their meal. Pyrrha smiled widely at her housekeeper and butler.

"You two did an excellent job; feel free to join us at the table."

Coco and Ren nodded respectfully and sat down as Pyrrha poured herself some tea.

* * *

While they were at dinner, the last guest arrived at the stroke of five-thirty. Fox Alistair, a tanned man of twenty-seven and Coco's fiancé, was dressed in black tie as his profession required, and the only difference between the mould and his manner of dress was the use of a black Inverness cape instead of a traditional dinner jacket. He donned his light-grey polarised glasses, and embraced the Frenchwoman he loved.

" _Mon cher_ , it's good to see you well."

"Likewise, my lady," he replied as he sat down and joined in.

As they finished, the guests were led by Nora to the workshop to see what she'd brought to show them.

As it turned out, it was Magnhild in its warhammer mode. However, Pyrrha noticed that it had been improved.

"Your hammer – it looks different, Nora. What did you do to it?"

"You know those compressed rounds that Ren uses? Well, I asked Neptune if we could make something similar for fuchsia dust. It took some doing, but we found a way of making a long-lasting round with a size and blast radius similar to my grenades. I've got my own workshop outfitted to make these rounds now, and I can store eight of them in the haft on Magnhild."

"Impressive, Nora. And you fire these rounds with your hammer?" "Sort of. The firing and reloading mechanism lies in the middle of the haft, so its inactive when I'm using it as a warhammer. However, the "travel mode" is now what I like to call a 'grenade launcher'. Here, let me show you!"

* * *

Nora picked up Magnhild in warhammer form, then pressed and held the pressure plate. As the haft retracted, a second grip unfolded from the base of the hammerhead. Inside the newly-retracted haft, the firing mechanism popped out from its crevice and lined up perfectly with the barrel. Finally, a small reticle slid downwards, leaving an inch-wide barrel hole for the blasts.

"That's impressive. Having a more reliable ranged attack is a plus, I must say."

"By the way, I also modified Ren's weapons. He said he'd gotten sick of reloading six smaller rounds every time he needs to, so I've modified his weapons to use these rounds with verdant dust."

Ren then moved forward to show his employer the new weapons. The cylinder had been replaced with a single chamber, which opened to reveal a single, grenade-sized compressed verdant Dust round. But that wasn't the only change. Attached to a pivot on both barrels were a pair of long, green bayonets, which looked as though they had been infused with verdant Dust. A second trigger within the grip, when pressed, merely folded the bayonets down ninety degrees – an odd variation on the use of reverse-gripped blades.

"Impressive, Ren," Pyrrha admitted. "But what of your throwing knives?"

"I still have a couple of them on me," Ren explained, "but my pistols can be thrown in such a way that they return to me."

"Oh; like a boomerang!", Nora exclaimed. "That's amazing!"

"Well, if I were to have a weapon," said Coco jokingly, "I'd probably have a handbag that contained a Gatling gun."

Pyrrha and Nora cracked and started to laugh, while Ren smiled, Jaune allowed himself a chuckle, and Fox remained dry as always.

"That would defy physics, Coco," he said with a slight smile.

* * *

As the other four moved downstairs to partake in dessert, Jaune and Pyrrha decided to view the pending solar eclipse on Pyrrha's second-floor balcony, sitting down on the garden chairs. But there were other things plaguing their thoughts. After an agonising minute of silence, Pyrrha spoke up as the sun started to darken.

"Jaune, I – I heard about your grandfather, and I'm sorry for your loss."

Jaune sadly smiled towards Pyrrha.

"Thank you, Pyrrha. It's just been the last thing I needed to deal with after my investigation got canned. Branwen must feel so bloody proud of himself, taking all the credit for my hard work. And my father still sees me as a disappointment after all I've done for this city."

Jaune then held his head in his hands, pitifully wailing as melancholy overrode his decorum.

"I mean, I go out of my way to get this case solved, and I've worked my guts out and busted plenty of schemes and criminals before now. But the lack of respect I've had to deal with, and the herd of profoundly self-aggrandising people in both my personal and professional life … it's making me wonder whether I should continue to work in the force."

Standing up and looking at the wider world, Jaune let the darkest piece of his melancholy fly from his tongue.

"I've just about had it with all this."

To his surprise, Pyrrha jumped up and walked toward him. Before he could say anything, Pyrrha embraced Jaune warmly.

"Jaune; don't give up," Pyrrha tenderly assured. "There's no need to be ashamed of yourself, or your efforts to make things right in this world. I, for one, am proud of the person you are – and I dare say that your friends and mother would all say the same. Your kindness, integrity, earnestness and determination have helped me through the worst week of my life – and have helped comfort countless others, I'm sure."

Looking up towards a teary smile, Pyrrha continued. "Jaune, I'm honoured to know a man as mature, thoughtful and gentle as you, and I know that you will never be beaten by this. Even if we don't catch the last man, please know that I'm glad to be a part of your life."

What happened next was likely the greatest moment in Inspector Jaune Arc's twenty-two years of living. Pyrrha pulled his head in and started kissing him on the lips.

 _My gods_ , Jaune realised as he returned the kiss passionately, _I never believed that someone – let alone one as accomplished as Pyrrha – could love me because of my personal qualities; especially when they're the ones that most men don't consider to be as important as their wealth, work, or appearance. Truly, this beautiful, flame-haired genius is someone worth marrying_.

Pyrrha, meanwhile, was having impassioned thoughts of her own. _Oh my, Jaune's an_ _amazing_ _kisser!_ _I'm glad I can be here for him; not only am I doing what comes naturally to me – soothing the mind of someone who needs rest – but I'm also getting something I've never had until now; the affection of a golden-haired gentleman of integrity who loves me for myself, and not for my achievements_. _My place in the world feels more safe and secure with him around, and even now I'm struggling to imagine life without him_.

After two minutes of extended kissing, Jaune and Pyrrha pulled away from each other's lips. Emerald eyes met with azure, two smiles formed on their faces, and the pair regarded each other in a whole new light. Both figuratively and literally, given that the sun was half-way blocked by this point.

"Pyrrha," Jaune began, "I never thought it possible until now, but I've fallen in love with you. I'm the luckiest man in the world, what with you by my side. You shine brighter than anything in the world to me."

Pyrrha's smile became even more tender as she replied in kind.

"And you Jaune, are a dream come true to me. No matter where I go or what I do, you're always in my heart. And when I'm with you, I truly feel at home."

Jaune smiled, and led Pyrrha back inside with his arm around the small of her back.

* * *

At that precise moment, Constable Burns was keeping watch over Scotland Yard's vaults. He'd been informed that Vault 4 had something extremely valuable and dangerous stored inside it, called "the Eye of Ra" or something like it.

Suddenly, a bird hit the far window of the ground floor foyer. Burns turned his head from the open passageway in reaction, then felt a truncheon hit him across the back of the head.

Unconsciousness was instant.

Coming around three minutes later, Burns ran towards the Vaults to check their contents. Fearing the worst, he checked Vault 4 first, and found it empty.

"Heavens above!", he cried as he ran towards the nearest phone in the complex. Running through the passageway and out the deadbolt door, he leaned into the booth and rang the number Jaune had given him for this contingency.

As this was happening, a Black Maria was being prepared to transfer Neo Politana to the nearest madhouse. As the groom ran inside to fetch his map, Burns's assailant calmly exited the building with a distinctive umbrella in hand, sat up top and geed up the horses. The Maria had vanished before the groom even realised his mistake and alerted the officers inside.

Having made it to Westminster without incident, the driver pulled over within the Derby Gate, and let the van's lone occupant out. She stretched her legs and turned to face her rescuer.

"Well," Neo said dangerously, "it's about time."

* * *

Pyrrha had just re-entered her parlour when the phone rang out. Picking the receiver up, she composed herself after an exhilarating experience.

"Hello, Dr. Nikos speaking."

"Dr. Nikos? It's Constable Burns from Scotland Yard. The Eye's been stolen!"

The resultant scream broke a window and utterly spooked Nora and Coco. Holding his nerve, Jaune ran into the parlour to find Pyrrha quivering with an even mix of rage and fright.

"What's wrong, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha turned to face him with an unsettled expression.

"The Eye's been taken, and I think we'll need to hunt it down."

"The only questions are," Ren observed as he entered, "where would they go, and what would they do with such a thing?"

At that moment, Nora called out from the dining room.

"Hey guys, there's a freaky looking storm hovering over Westminster."

Ren's eyes bulged wide with shock, and his quiet voice was uncharacteristically shaky.

"Oh no."

"What's going on?!", Jaune exclaimed as Nora entered the parlour. Ren gave him a look.

"We need to get to Parliament House and fast. Bring your weapons and call for backup."

Jaune nodded, promptly calling Qrow about the mess.

One minute later, a policeman departed with a huntress, an archaeologist and her butler, and the grim quartet ran at full pelt towards the Kensington High Street station.

It sure as hell wasn't the start of a joke.

* * *

 **A/N: The title is a reference to RWBY Chibi - it simply means "Upgrade Time".**

 **As for this chapter's soundtrack, it was the same song and film clip which inspired the Arkos scene - "Don't Give Up" by Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush. I hope I did the moment justice. Also, I realised four chapters too late that I made some small continuity errors regarding Jaune's father and Jaune's history prior to joining the police - I've since corrected them, so I apologise for that mistake.**

 **The Arc sisters were interesting to name, given that I set out to make a rainbow in terms of age (with Jennifer younger than Jaune, it must be noted). For those wondering about the names seemingly without a colour reference, I've got the list here: Jennifer is the Cornish version of Guinevere, which means "white phantom"; Muriel comes from an Irish word which means "bright sea"; Silvia comes from the Latin word for "forest"; and Bridget comes from the ancient name Brigit, who was the goddess of fire in Celtic paganism.**

 **Lastly, we're approaching the final act now. Stay tuned for the next installment, folks, and feel free to leave a favourite or review.**


	9. Oculus Tempestate

Chapter Nine: Oculus Tempestate

Tuesday, the 5th of November, 1889.

Qrow, contrary to popular belief, wasn't the sort to scarper off to the nearest dive bar when his shift officially finished. Instead, the Special Branch investigator tended to stay an extra hour or so before calmly going home, and duly opening a bottle of top-shelf scotch at home – after all, men of the Special Branch had _standards_ when off the clock. He'd just donned his jacket when his desk phone went off.

"You're through to Special Branch; Inspector Branwen speaking."

"Inspector, it's Jaune Arc here. I've just been informed by one of my men that the Eye of Ra just got stolen."

"WHAT?!"

"Additionally, Mr. Lie Ren just told me that there's an unnatural storm occurring over Westminster; according to him, something _really_ nasty is going to happen there in short order due to the Eye's removal. I'm on my way down there, and you'd better send some regulars in to cordon off the area."

Qrow sighed. "Very well, Arc. I'll get on that."

Hanging up the phone, Qrow poured and downed a glass of the second-rate swill his employers provided, then ran downstairs to rally all the unoccupied policemen within the Yard to converge on Westminster.

After tonight was done with, he was going to try forgetting it as much as possible.

* * *

Naturally, the Houses of Parliament was in the thick of this unusual, narrow storm. The lightning was an unusual shade of teal, the thunder was louder than normal, and the very air around the Houses had become thick and viscous.

None of this perturbed one of the most senior politicians in the building, who was impatiently waiting for a meeting to commence. He was busying his time by completing the rest of the paperwork his position had saddled him with for the rest of the day.

 _Come on_ , he thought impatiently, _I haven't got all day to wait for passing on urgent news_. Suddenly, as the middle-aged politician signed off the last few orders, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called out. In strode the man he was set to meet.

"Ah, Chief Inspector. How good of you to come in such a ghastly state of the weather."

"Wouldn't do any less for the Home Secretary," the policeman replied, taking a seat opposite the politician.

"Well, old friend, I've got some disturbing news to reveal to you about some rotten anarchists."

The policeman cocked his right eyebrow. "Really? Tell me all about it, Secretary."

The politician was so caught up in his urgent delivery, he didn't notice a small girl slipping in and locking the office door.

* * *

Meanwhile, a rather out-of-breath quartet boarded an empty carriage on the next tube heading for the city, and they opted to catch their breath as the train took off. When the train rounded Sloane Square station, Jaune turned towards his companions with an agonised expression.

"Before I forget to ask, what's happening at Westminster?"

"Remember what Dr. Watts's diary said about the Eye?", Pyrrha responded calmly.

Jaune concentrated for a moment before he remembered.

"Whenever it got stolen, it summoned storms?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said, "but when I took the Eye last month, it didn't happen."

Jaune and Nora both looked perplexed.

"That can't be right," Nora stated.

"Wait a minute," Ren interjected. "The only time someone else tried to take the eye was when Emerald attempted it as a youngster. Given her personality, it's likely that the Eye reacts badly to the intent of the person who wields it."

Pyrrha's eyes flashed in realisation. "Of course! I didn't have any bad intentions when I took the Eye to London, hence the lack of storm."

"In that case," Nora remarked as they stopped at Victoria station, "how come the storm's hovering over Westminster?"

"I'm not too sure," Pyrrha replied uncertainly.

Jaune and Ren, for their part, looked equally unsure about the question as the train picked up again. However, as the train went past St. James's Park station and approached Westminster, Ren's eyes widened again as he remembered why they traveled to this area.

"Oh no. Not him!"

As one, the other three turned to their frightened friend.

"Who's getting attacked, Ren?", Jaune enquired blankly.

Ren let them know as the train stopped at Westminster station.

" _WHAT?!_ ", the three cried out.

" _There's no time to waste;_ _let's move!_ ", Jaune urged as he ran onto the platform with Pyrrha hot on his heels.

"It's now or never," Nora spoke dryly as she sped off. Ren nodded, and duly brought up the rear.

* * *

As the quartet emerged from the tube station and started running across the road towards Westminster Palace, a train from Dover pulled up at Charing Cross Station. Departing briskly, the albino woman was _instantly_ drawn to the Eye's power. Making her way outside, she saw the narrow storm over Westminster, and moved with an unnaturally fast speed down the Victoria Embankment.

 _Curses_ , she thought, _I may be too late to prevent whatever manner of evil is happening there_. However, her bad luck struck again as she neared Westminster Palace; a number of Black Marias sped past her and blocked off all the entrances to the house, and a lone gunshot was heard above the cacophony of horses and shouting.

As she stood angrily on the northern end of Great George Street, she spied a quartet of people running into the building's northern entrance, as both politicians and civil servants were departing at speed. _They're here to stop this as well_ , she quickly realised. _Perhaps they could succeed on my behalf, and then I'll ask them to hand back the Eye_.

The lightning storm cast a penny dreadful pall over the quartet as they caught their breath in the courtyard.

"Ren," Jaune said eventually, "care to lead us to the Secretary's office?"

Ren nodded, drawing his weapons and motioning for the others to do the same. The quartet made a beeline for the doorway, with Ren out front, Pyrrha and Nora in the middle, and Jaune covering their rearguard. Recognising Jaune, the guards on duty let the quartet past, surmising that they were a squad of hunters called in by the Met to help solve the disturbance.

Before long, the quartet found the Home Secretary's office door. Naturally, it was locked tight, but a piece of paper was taped to the wall.

 _If you need to see the Home Secretary, he is meeting with a police bigwig at the top of Big Ben._

"Well," Jaune said with some annoyance, "we may as well head there."

For the next seven minutes, Ren led his friends through a labyrinthine morass of corridors, stairwells and underused state rooms. Finally, tiptoeing up the clock tower's limestone stairs as quickly as possible, the quartet made their way to the top of Big Ben; again, they found themselves in front of a locked door.

* * *

From the other side of the doors, indistinct chanting could be heard.

"Not again, not again," Ren muttered in agonised tones.

Nora looked at Pyrrha, and nodded towards the key hole. Without a word, Pyrrha jammed a modified version of her SNC charge, wherein the crimson dust was replaced with violet Dust. Pyrrha set it off and backed away slightly. The lock melted silently into a ball of hot metal, and Pyrrha then pushed the door – which didn't budge an inch.

Growling nigh-inaudibly, she jammed a standard SNC charge in the hole and ducked for cover, with the other three doing the same a split-second later. The door completely blew up, disrupting the chants coming from within, and the four stormed into a grisly scene.

The Rt. Hon. Leonard Lionheart MP, the Home Secretary in Lord Ozpin's third ministry, lay dead on the ground. He'd suffered a bullet wound in the middle of his eyebrows and a dozen gashes all over his body.

The three litres of blood he'd spilled had been arranged on the floor, in a perfect representation of the Eye of Ra's hieroglyphs. And standing over it all were two slightly surprised assailants.

Neo had blood spattered all over her pantsuit and boots, but her genial smile adorned her face as usual. The other man, bearded and burly, stood tall in an olive green suit. He turned to face the intruders, and Jaune gasped when he recognised the true villain of the whole debacle. His anger then surfaced as he snarled out the name of the perpetrator.

"Chief Inspector Hazel Rainart, prepare to die."

"WAIT!", Hazel cried out as the other five occupants raised their weapons. "Let me explain everything that's happened here."

Hesitantly, Neo lowered her umbrella, and the quartet holstered their weapons as Hazel stood in front of his accomplice.

* * *

"First thing's first … why did this all have to happen?"

"Well, Jaune," Hazel replied, "it's a long story, but it started after the Clockwork Disaster. Once it became clear that the SDC were going to hunt us down, Emerald ordered me and Miss Politana to dismantle the remaining Grimm when the Tenebrae Club blew up. As I understand it, she wanted nothing to do with the cult any more, and neither did the other two leaders.

"Now, assuming what Emerald Sustrai told me was accurate, I knew that the Eye of Ra was far too dangerous to be removed from its resting place. So when Neo told me she'd successfully tricked Dr. Nikos into taking it to Exham, I knew there and then that I needed to tie up any and all loose ends that could've created a mess. Unfortunately, that meant killing the man who'd started it all; Dr. Arthur Watts.

"He was an old friend of mine, and he'd personally allowed me to lead the Grimm on his behalf. But he knew far too much about all this, and the shield showing up at Exham sent his sanity off the edge by the time Neo dealt with him. And when Mr. Lionheart complained about his old bodyguards getting involved in the Clockwork disaster and the mystical stuff, I tried to dissuade him from the truth with the news that they'd all been arrested. When he refused, Neo killed him before I could try anything else."

"What about Tyrian? Kill him too, did you?"

Hazel glanced back at Neo before he answered.

"Well, we did that together. To be honest, I didn't want Dr. Nikos harmed; after all, she didn't know about the Grimm."

A nasty look on Neo's face suggested that this rationale _wasn't_ shared.

"So keeping him alive after his breakdown and murder attempt was not an option for you," Jaune completed.

"That," Neo added, "and sparking his madness by handing him the diary fell in line with the order Emerald gave us to wipe out the last remnants of the Grimm."

Jaune's expression hardened to one of frustration and glared at Hazel.

"If taking down the Grimm was your goal, why did you can my investigation and give Qrow the credit?"

Hazel's expression softened, coming close to remorse. "I was ordered to supplant you by Special Branch itself; apparently, they were annoyed that they couldn't get to the Grimm's previous HQ on St. James's Street, and thus wanted to take credit for removing the Grimm. Inspector Branwen wasn't in on it, in case you were wondering."

Jaune frowned. _I owe that man an apology_ _when this is done with_.

"And before we haul you in, what were you planning to do with the Eye?"

"Truthfully, I wished to resign from the police force and return the Eye to it's rightful spot without incident. Once that was done, my plan was to find Emerald, Mercury and - "

No-one saw what happened next coming.

* * *

Hazel lurched suddenly, dropping to one knee as a small estoc poked out from his chest cavity. The blade was withdrawn, and an annoyed Neo somersaulted with her umbrella in hand. With one powerful kick, she sent the larger man sprawling through one of the windowpanes, which gave way and broke open.

Qrow and his men had only just finished cordoning off the area when it happened. They looked up, and could only watch in disgust as their colleague fell off the northern face of Big Ben. Hazel landed on the fence, with four of the spikes respectively impaling his right leg, liver, heart and neck. He screamed as he bled out profusely, and continued to do so after he breathed his last.

Qrow, narrowly resisting the urge to throw up at the sight, turned towards the uniformed men on duty.

"Constables Burns and Heyman, can you please remove Chief Inspector Rainart's corpse?"

The two men looked uncertainly at each other, then walked forward to the fence with heavy hearts. Needless to say, the rest of the officers removed their hats in respect.

As the cops approached the corpse, Neo turned to face the shocked quartet, and held up the crucible.

"Now that the Grimm organisation is dead and buried, I can follow Emerald's _actual_ last order to me and summon Kifin, the dragon-god of chaos."

 _She's obviously read too many penny dreadfuls in her life_ , Ren observed snarkily; _she believes she's_ _part_ _of one._ Apparently, Pyrrha had done the same.

"Why did you have to do this to me?! To us!", Pyrrha wailed.

Neo scowled ferally at her and hissed her response. "The summoning could only be done on a solar eclipse, hence why I tricked you into taking the Eye. And Pyrrha, this is what happens when I get ignored and uncredited for assisting the work you win Mistral Prizes for, when I got passed over for promotion three times in a row, and especially when I was denied a chance to lead my own exhibition instead of you, Pyrrha."

She bowed her head and chanted quickly and loudly. "Remember remember, the fifth of November. For Kifin will come to turn the world to ember."

Surprised at Neo's jealous motive and insane rationale, the quartet readied themselves for combat. Jaune drew his sword, Pyrrha unholstered her rifle and shield, Ren deployed his guns and Nora extended her hammer. Breaking the crucible, Neo held the Eye in her left hand, and picked up her umbrella in her right. Her appearance changed dramatically, as a result of her body interacting with the ebony dust. The right side of her hair and her left eye changed colours, both turning from brown to pink with white streaks. Her genial smile changed to one that _reeked_ of malice. She pressed a button on her umbrella, and the estoc blade sprang up through the top. Wielding the weapon two-handed, Neo shifted into a low battle stance, with the quartet doing the same.

As a bolt of lightning struck the roof, Neo only said one thing.

"Let's play."

As one, the four heroes charged forward.

* * *

 **A/N: The title translates to Eye Of The Storm, and the song for this chapter is "In The Lowlands" by Crowded House, if only for the imagery of the storm it provides.**

 **On a small side note, the name Kifin is the Arabic form for Kevin - which, funnily enough, comes from a Gaelic word meaning "gentle birth". As we all know, the birth of the Grimm dragon was anything _but_ gentle.**

 **One last thing: I'm sorry for keeping you all waiting for such a short chapter, but I've got a longer one coming up just for you guys next. I'll make it worth your while.**


	10. Inter Enim Arma Silent Leges

Chapter Ten: Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

Tuesday, the 5th of November, 1889.

Pyrrha knew that her assistant had some experience in swordplay, but even she didn't know just how powerful Neo was. Being the daughter of a fencing instructor, Neo Politana was a fierce combatant in her natural state. To make herself even more formidable, the small woman had learned to use Dust in its raw, crystalline form – which was usually a lethal course of action.

However, Emerald had trained her, and her alone, to use it safely – all in preparation for the day she wielded the Eye against Emerald's enemies. So placing the ebony Dust crystal in a custom-designed palm hole on her left glove gave the short assassin unearthly combat abilities.

Pyrrha shifted Milό into sword mode and lunged with Jaune to pin Neo to the wall. However, Neo ducked underneath their weapons, rolled to their right, and tripped Jaune over with her umbrella – all within the space of two seconds. As he fell, Neo back-flipped and kicked Jaune into Pyrrha, and both of them were sent sprawling towards the western wall.

At this point, Nora swung Magnhild at full pelt, but Neo _narrowly_ ducked to avoid what would've been a decapitating shot. She spun round with the blade poking out, and Nora jumped backwards to avoid the hit.

Ren then lobbed the first throwing knife at Neo, successfully slicing through her right cheek. Neo simply stared him down as she dislodged the blade from her face, dropping the blade as she waved her left hand over the wound. The ebony Dust healed it up _instantly_ , leaving only a faint scar which would only take a few days to heal.

As Neo smirked and strode forward, she jumped and grabbed her backside in pain, screaming as Pyrrha's crimson dust round did the trick. As the ebony Dust healed her wound, Neo turned to stare her opponent down – only to gasp and make a split-second dodge as Akoúo̱ was cast forward on its leash. Pyrrha, who stood between Neo and a slightly concussed Jaune, wore an expression of grim determination that could have rivalled Colonel Arc's.

With the shield returning to its grips, Pyrrha stood tall and drew Neo's attention away from Nora, who swung Magnhild hard at the assassin's head. Neo simply raised her umbrella and opened it over her shoulder, her malicious smile never wavering as Magnhild barely dented the cobalt Dust-treated cloth.

* * *

Nora ducked in time to avoid the concussive rebound from the cobalt Dust, but the blast stopped a charging Ren dead in his tracks. He still brought the second of his throwing knives to bear, not relying on Stormflower unless he absolutely needed to. He aimed it straight at her head. In a cruel twist of fate, the blade's pommel struck her left temple, merely annoying Neo a little further.

Neo then shuddered slightly, and used the ebony Dust to perform a trick Emerald taught her about – creating illusions of herself to attack and disorient her enemies. Suddenly, the first clone was upon Ren, and he drew his pistols and started firing. Of course, the verdant Dust passed straight through the ebony Dust masquerade, and Ren was sent flying into the wall by the real article.

Nora, meanwhile, was tackling an illusion of two Neos. The first one fell to a swing of Magnhild, but the second one had _just_ enough force to trip Nora up before it dispersed. Neo took advantage of this and kicked Nora's chest as hard as she could. Nora merely withstood the blow with a grimace, shifted her hammer into grenade launcher form, and blasted Neo at point blank range with it.

Neo _barely_ ducked in time, and the blast went straight through the broken window. Pyrrha, meanwhile, was standing guard over Jaune as he started to shake off his concussion. Neo quickly realised just how well the pair knew one another, and she decided to goad Pyrrha into attacking her.

"I don't know why you bother protecting that Scotland Yard wimp; that easy piece of prey doesn't deserve you."

" _That's it!_ "

Pyrrha's eyes steeled themselves as she shifted Milό into sword form and unleashed Akoúo̱'s whip function. Neo simply bashed the shield away and unleashed a smoke bomb between her and Pyrrha. She then extended her blade, and summoned _four_ of her clones, all wielding the same weapon. As the smoke cleared, Pyrrha found herself staring down _five_ Neos, all closing in on her with their weapons drawn.

"Good luck hitting the real McCoy," they all taunted viciously.

* * *

However, the one person Neo regarded as easy prey was the one who ultimately caused her defeat. Jaune ran around her as she focused on her illusions and attacked Pyrrha, and swung his sword wildly at her back.

What he didn't realise was that his grip shifted slightly as he placed his sword back for the swing – and the faint "click" of a pressure plate wasn't heard by anyone. As Jaune brought the sword forward, an orange glow enveloped him, and he brought the sword down quicker than anyone anticipated. _That's tangerine Dust_ , Pyrrha realised; _he's enveloped in a time-dilation field_. Shocked at this, Jaune dropped the sword in panic, the glow dispersing as Neo cried out in pain and dispelled her illusions.

Neo's back had earned a huge gash, and the Eye started to slip from her grasp as she cauterised the gash by backing into a brazier. Sensing an opportunity, Nora shifted Magnhild into warhammer mode, and whacked the Eye through the broken window and into the street below.

" _ **NO!**_ ", Neo cried, vainly reaching for the Eye as it plummeted.

Ren, having recovered from Neo's ultimate blow, shot Neo's left arm twice as he ran forward, then brained her with a flying kick. Jaune and Nora then restrained her as Pyrrha approached with Milό and Akoúo̱, a look of absolute vengeance in her eyes.

"This ends here, you God-forsaken whore."

Gripping Milό in reverse with her right hand and Akoúo̱ in her left, Pyrrha pistol-whipped Neo's left temple and bashed the right one with her shield. Unconsciousness was instant, and Jaune cuffed her hands behind her back. Turning to his friends, the young policeman decided on his next move.

"Well, that's that. Nora and Ren, you'd better let the regulars know to lift the curfew around Westminster, and get Qrow and Oobleck in here to assess the damage. We'll guard the tower door."

The other three nodded and affirmed the decision, and walked outside to disperse the regular policemen.

* * *

However, as the door to the clock tower slammed shut, Neo awoke in a heavy rage; her appearance was somehow more feral and deranged without the Eye in her grasp.

"I won't be downed _that_ easily," she whispered cruelly as she stood up unsteadily with her hands locked behind her back. "I already chanted the incantations for the ritual, so all I'll need to do is say the final summons."

She stood up, and chanted the last rite for a minute in a near-silent whisper.

"The day of chaos is due to dawn. Arise, black dragon of hell born."

The storm didn't tear the sky in two. In fact, it stopped, and the clouds cleared. There wasn't any loud roar or black wings befouling the air. To put it simply, the summoning failed, and Neo had failed by extension.

All of her planning, training, espionage, murdering and duplicity led to the anticlimax of the century.

Without ever realising it, she had been fooled by the snake-oiled tongue of Emerald Sustrai – just like every last Creature of Grimm.

Neo unleashed a massive, keening scream. On hearing the noise, Pyrrha raced back up the tower with Jaune while Nora and Ren rallied the uniformed officers outside. As they made the stairs, Neo's tantrum had begun in earnest.

"I wanted a dragon to sow fear in this forsaken city! Emerald never lied to me before, so I'm sure she isn't now. Why did the gods refuse to hear my summons?!"

"Because living beings can't be created from thin air, blind fool."

* * *

Neo spun around at the voice, and found herself staring down someone she never wanted to meet. A gaunt, albino woman floated in through the window, having caught the Eye as it sailed past the fences. Her face was set in what could only be described as tranquil fury.

"Wait … you're Emerald's mother," Neo realised out loud.

The albino's expression and vocal tone darkened.

"That traitor sent you to the eye?!"

"Well, not exactly. Someone else took the Eye without realising its power, and I reclaimed it to summon the dragon that Emerald informed me about."

All semblance of tranquillity vanished from the woman's face as she landed seven feet away from Neo and yelled at her.

" _ **You**_ _sought to create an agent of destruction with the Eye, and you slaughtered many to get your hands on_ _an artifact_ _ **my**_ _tribe_ _ **hold sacred?!**_ "

At this point, Pyrrha and Jaune were tiptoeing towards the room, as the woman's tone dropped to a whisper drenched in malice.

"As Seer of the Grimm tribe and custodian of the Eye of Ra, I adjudge you unworthy of life."

As Pyrrha and Jaune glimpsed through the shattered door, they beheld the most ghastly sight ever imaginable.

* * *

A figure that looked like a ghost with red eyes held the ebony Dust in her hand, with her veins having turned purple with exposure. A black tendril was starting to extend outward from the crystal, aiming in a beeline towards Neo. She tried running for the door, but the tendril latched around her stomach and pulled the woman away from her escape. Jaune shut his eyes, while Pyrrha's expression went from morbid curiosity to open-mouthed fright.

A second tendril snaked around Neo's feet, then coiled like the bandages of a mummy until it enveloped Neo's body below the neck. A third tendril stopped a foot in front of Neo's face, and a vision appeared within it. Pyrrha never got to see what the vision contained, but Neo's expression changed from dogged resistance to utter horror. The tendril reached Neo's face, and passed through her body from head to toe.

Neo unleashed an _ear-piercing_ scream as the three tendrils started to change her body's molecules. Pyrrha could only watch in abject horror as Neo's small frame distorted and contracted in all manner of directions, seemingly crystallising along the way. After a full minute of the torture, Neo's now immobile body went back to it's normal proportions.

The assassin's face was frozen over in a rictus of perfect, primal fear. With a wave of her free hand, the albino woman tossed Neo up into the air and removed the tendrils – leaving the diminutive woman to drop fifteen feet onto the floor.

When Neo Politana landed, she shattered into dozens of glass shards. The albino woman looked briefly towards the door, then used the ebony Dust to shroud herself in shadows and float away on the wind. Pyrrha could only stare in silent terror as the Eye of Ra's true power was made manifest in front of her.

Walking in to the devastation, Pyrrha grabbed a nearby broom and dustpan, and swept up all the newly-formed glass into it. Noting that a nearby brazier had been lit, Pyrrha poured the contents into the fire.

The sound she heard in response was forever scored on her ears; for all the world, it sounded like a metallic, high-pitched scream. Bringing herself to look at one of the shards of glass, Pyrrha noticed that it was _bleeding_ , as were all the others.

"What the hell … _**Neo?!**_ ", she cried out in sheer shock as Neo's final word was heard and drawn out as Jaune entered the room with Ren, Nora and the regular officers trailing close behind.

" _ **HELP!**_ ".

Pyrrha fainted, and was caught by a hastened Jaune as the shards all stretched slightly, then stopped bleeding as the screams died away.

* * *

As the officers hauled away Lionheart's body, Pyrrha came to in Jaune's arms with Ren and Nora surrounding her.

"With Hazel's testimony unable to be reproduced," Pyrrha began, "how will we solidify the evidence against Neo and the remaining Grimm without annoying the stiffs in Special Branch?"

"Well, there is one thing we can do," Ren stated calmly.

"How do you mean?", Pyrrha enquired.

Ren promptly held up Hazel's diary, which had fallen on the floor after he'd been thrown out the window by Neo.

"We can hand this in, add that to our testimonies and Watts's diary, and that'll sort itself out."

" _Good show_ , Ren!" exclaimed Jaune as he patted him on the shoulder. "We'll be able to lock up the Grimm _and_ clean up the police force with this diary."

As he finished saying that, Qrow finally joined them up top.

"Qrow," Jaune began, "I owe you an apology and a favour for what I said the other day. I didn't realise that you hadn't requested sole credit for the Grimm's arrests."

Qrow nodded empathetically. "Fear not, Jaune. I've informed Superintendent Blackford that you are to be given main credit for the investigation."

* * *

Wednesday, the 6th of November, 1889.

The following evening, after Jaune had accompanied her to Dr. Watts's funeral, Pyrrha was working late at Exham. She was getting the Eye of Ra exhibit ready for viewing when she heard someone walking towards her office.

"Who's there?", Pyrrha called out.

"The true wielder of the Eye of Ra."

Pyrrha stood bolt upright, and turned to face the woman who'd murdered Neo in the doorway. For only the second time in her life, Pyrrha felt _complete, utter fear_. Sensing her tension, the albino held out her empty right hand and kept an even, neutral expression.

"Relax, child; I'm not here to harm you. However, I'd like an explanation as to why you stole the Eye of Ra, and how you managed to avoid causing a thunderstorm whilst doing so."

"You know, I'd been thinking about the lack of storms since the night I learned of your tribe's story," Pyrrha began, "and I think I've realised why the storm phenomenon didn't happen to me when I took it; I didn't have any evil intent behind my actions at all. Within your tribe, a want to move the Eye would've been backed with evil intent; hence the storms. And for the record, how come the Eye actually has the ability to cause thunderstorms if held by an evil person?"

The albino stroked her chin. "Your explanation makes sense. To answer your question, the Eye of Ra allows the user to have control over any material object, living or otherwise, on this planet – the problem is that it reacts to mental energy in unpredictable ways; even I, having spent most of my life studying it, don't know exactly how that works. What I can tell you though is that, with enough training, the Eye's wielder can teleport anywhere they've been before, can manipulate objects that lack what your people call 'Dust', and it's offensive capabilities against living beings are already known to you. However, I also know that it needs to be stored in the exact same shield you took from the room for safety. It's to do with both the hieroglyphs and how the Eye interacts with the shield's purity."

Pyrrha's face lit up in recognition. "That makes sense. The shield was bronze, but the chamber used to house the Eye was made of gold. As most of us in this part of the world have learned, gold is known to react more sensitively than other materials around an active Dust crystal, and bronze will carry that sensitivity if layered with gold. So, having a bronze shield around a gold chamber in those proportions would, along with resonance cancellation from the etchings, likely counteract the stability issues with wielding the Eye – which, coincidentally, is physically a sphere of pure ebony Dust, arguably the rarest of all Dust types. Also, your explanation of the Eye's abilities proved a theory I came up with after witnessing Neo's death; if ivory Dust enables one to access and control pure energy, then ebony Dust allows one the same for it's counterpart: matter."

"Be that as it may," continued the albino in a low grumble, "I'd still like to know why you thought it was a good idea to steal the Eye without realising its power, or considering repercussions like putting my tribe's way of life under existential threat."

* * *

To her credit, Pyrrha kept calm as she explained herself. "I only thought that the Eye of Ra was the shield itself, as opposed to the sphere embedded within it. Besides, this isn't the first time that someone like me has come along and reclaimed ancient artifacts from distant lands."

"Is that so?", asked the albino darkly.

"Indeed; quite a sizeable amount of people do what I do, with most operating on the maxim of preserving the past as best we can. That means taking the artifacts to places like this, studying them for our research, and keeping watch over them. And furthermore, I never used the Eye at all; indeed, when I learned that it lay within the shield, I had it removed and put somewhere I thought was safe from intruders. I wanted absolutely _nothing_ to do with the Eye."

The albino took this into account. "Well child, do you have a solution to my conundrum? Even a trained user like myself can't hold its exposed form for longer than three days before the Eye starts de-materialising the wielder, and I know you can't be cursed with it either. Also, my tribe does not have easy access to gold, and the copper we have is too pure for what the Eye needs."

Suddenly, Pyrrha perked up. "Actually, I _do_ have a solution."

Pyrrha walked over to the far wall, opened her safe, and removed something Neptune and Nora had finished that very afternoon – two identical bronze shields, complete with etchings and secret compartments – and handed one of these to the woman.

"I had two exact replicas of the shield made for public viewing after we dismantled and reforged the original shield. It would be a simple matter to place the Eye within the one I've given you, and have the other go on display here. No one would be the wiser."

The woman examined the shield quizzically, noting that the quality of the metallurgy was on par with her tribe's armourers, and eventually caused the ebony Dust crystal to phase into it's place in the shield. It didn't react adversely, and it caused the albino's "automata face" to shift into a genuine smile, as her gaze moved from the new shield to Pyrrha.

"This will be sufficient for my purposes. You have my thanks, child, and I will take my leave and head home. But let your peers know that if that tomb gets disturbed again then I, Salem of the Grimm tribe, will come for them and _won't_ show mercy."

Pyrrha nodded understandingly.

"It will be done."

Salem nodded, and used the ebony Dust to teleport home. Pyrrha sat back down at her desk, and exhaled a boatload of tension which dropped from her shoulders.

"I _really_ need a bath and a stiff drink after I'm done here tonight. Hopefully with Jaune supplying and indulging in both of these with me," she added with a smile.

* * *

 **A/N: The title means "In times of war, the law falls silent." The soundtrack for this chapter is "The Dark Eternal Night" by Dream Theater - a pretty close description to what Neo was trying to unleash above Big Ben.**

 **I wish I could've written more about the battle sequences, but I hope I made up for it with my "Raiders of the Lost Ark" ending for Neo.**

 **And who else saw the identity of the albino coming? I can tell you that it was planned from the beginning.**

 **Next time, we'll come to the finale. Hope you've enjoyed this chapter!**


	11. Deo Solus Scit

Chapter Eleven: Deo Solus Scit …

Monday, the 11th of November, 1889.

Chief Inspector Jonathan Warren of Special Branch, who'd demanded Hazel to give Qrow Branwen sole credit for the Grimm investigation, wasn't someone who enjoyed being exposed for something. Especially by one of his own, who'd teamed up with a young Scotland Yard inspector set to be promoted in the wake of Hazel's passing and apparent treachery.

But what made his situation even worse is that _he'd_ been given the unenviable position of fronting the resultant political subcommittee into police corruption, ostensibly for his hand in frustrating a crucial investigation by trying to claim credit for Inspector Arc's work. Jaune and Qrow, surprisingly, weren't required to appear before the panel of big wigs; instead, they'd submitted a jointly-authored testimony for the panel to consider, which was seconded by Dr. Pyrrha Nikos.

"Dammit," he said to himself as he walked towards the room, "I'll need a holiday after all this."

As he entered the room, he beheld the three people that were questioning him in front of an empty press gallery. The one closest to the dock, unsurprisingly, was his oldest brother, the previous police commissioner. Sir Charles Warren wore his usual stern expression for the occasion, and his eyes were alight with a certain amount of fury. Jonathan realised pretty quickly that he wouldn't leave today without getting grilled _severely_ by him.

The furthest man from him was the imposingly tall Lord Chancellor, the Rt. Hon. Sir Xavier Ray. His sour, ill-tempered expression indicated that something was going to get burned at the stake in short order if this didn't go quickly or smoothly enough for his liking.

And finally, Prime Minister Lord Ozpin sat at the head of the panel. The middle-aged man looked markedly weary, no doubt still grieving for the loss of Leonard Lionheart. Despite his self-centred state of mind at the time, Jonathan felt a wave of remorse come over him; not least because of his actions unwittingly causing the death of one of his own friends in the force, as well as one of Ozpin's colleagues and closest allies in government. Finally ascending the steps to the dock, Jonathan cleared his throat and prepared the statements he'd composed for the occasion. Composing his appearance, he stood tall and readied himself for the start of the proceedings.

At the stroke of nine-thirty that morning, the inquiry started in earnest. Lord Ozpin opened the dialogue between the panel and the dock.

"Chief Inspector Jonathan Warren, did you willingly try to take credit for the investigation being carried out by Inspectors Branwen and Arc?"

"Not for myself, sir. Instead, I wished for Inspector Branwen to receive instead."

Sir Charles glared nastily at his youngest brother.

"Care to provide the subcommittee a reason for your actions, including shutting it off prematurely?"

* * *

Jonathan retrieved his list from the folder he'd dragged into the room.

"There are a couple of reasons for my actions, sirs. First, Inspector Branwen had himself been trying to investigate the Grimm for some time, only turning up that the Tenebrae Club, their erstwhile headquarters, had been attacked deliberately by unknown persons. Then he got called in to help Inspector Arc's investigation. As I understood it, the regular constabulary answers to Special Branch operatives, not the other way around."

"Secondly, the interrogations that Inspector Branwen undertook on Arc's behalf gave us the mistaken impression that the assassin known as Neo Politana was the sole party responsible for the murders of Dr. Arthur Watts and Tyrian Callows. With that evidence corroborated by the remaining Grimm mercenaries, it seemed obvious to close the case there and then. Also, the fact that Branwen had interrogated every last one of the Grimm was another reason for trying to give him sole credit for the investigation. Of course, we didn't know then that the late Chief Inspector Hazel Rainart was in league with the killer."

At this point, the three panellists looked towards each other with expressions that looked undecided. After a pause, Sir Xavier asked Jonathan a question.

"Have you seen and/or heard the joint testimony of Inspector Branwen and Acting Chief Inspector Arc on this matter?"

"No, I have not, sir."

Xavier nodded, and picked up his copy to read out for the benefit of the tribunal. The first half of the testimony was mostly knowledge that Warren himself had been handed the preceding Saturday by Inspector Branwen. The man had been quite thorough in terms of his documentation. The missing gaps were provided by the examination and fact-finding that Inspector Arc had undertaken before getting Special Branch involved in this business. The second half, however, revealed the depths of his late friend's apparent corruption, which he'd inadvertently aided him in.

"According to his diaries, however, Rainart had decided six years ago that what he'd perceived as an endless wave of crime could never be stopped. So, he considered the next best route to dealing with the problem – namely, controlling it – and went about doing just that. Within the following two years, he'd gone and reorganised the Grimm Security Force into the Creatures of Grimm. He'd achieved this with the aid of three individuals – an Egyptian beggar called Emerald Sustrai, a washed out soldier from Yorkshire called Mercury Black, and an unnamed woman that he only described as his assistant.

"The organisation ended up becoming the very face of anarchy and murder in London, either absorbing or destroying their rivals in the immediate area of the Tenebrae Club. Rainart managed to retain a number of lucrative, yet legal contracts by setting apart a number of the more honest mercenaries and assigning them to those contracts. He also plotted to destroy the Grimm before things got out of hand, but wasn't able to prevent the Clockwork Pavilion disaster. Once that happened, Rainart wrote that it was only a matter of days before they were going to be caught by one of many interested parties. So he convinced the three assistants to flee, allowing him to mop up the remains and place himself above doubt. He was aided in this by an assassin under the three's employ – as insurance if Rainart failed, apparently.

"After the murders of Dr. Watts and Mr. Callows, which Rainart openly admitted to committing as his start to mopping up the remainder of the Grimm, he'd planned to pin everything on Neo and escape punishment … only for her to openly admit his involvement when he was making a gramophone of her interrogation. He knew then that he needed to cut her loose and reunite with the other three leaders, which was stopped by Neo's hand at the top of Big Ben. However, Rainart also knew that Inspector Arc would have wanted to continue the investigation, despite the evidence against Neo. A welcome means of avoiding the issue came when Chief Inspector Warren of Special Branch asked to close it off after the arrests and give Inspector Branwen the credit. Rainart noted that he allowed it, even though it was something he'd never have done in any other circumstance."

Warren exhaled a breath he never realised that he was holding. Even though it made him look like a fool, his demands playing straight into Rainart's hands would exonerate him from being punished severely. And after that hearing, he was.

* * *

Wednesday, the 4th of December, 1889.

The following month, Dr. Pyrrha Nikos and Chief Inspector Jaune Arc were at a high-class restaurant just north of Canary Wharf, awaiting a lunch of the highest importance. Having heard tell of the wealthy nature of the place, Pyrrha had opted to adorn her tall frame with a maroon, full-length dress which struck a balance between simplicity and elegance. Brown stockings and a matching pair of formal boots set off the look, with her hair worn long underneath her fedora.

The only indication of her adventurous nature was the cloak she'd worn into the restaurant. Being a proper lady, she'd checked it into the cloak room, along with a pair of items she'd not intended to show the other guests. Jaune, meanwhile, simply wore his black three-piece suit with a white dress shirt and an azure tie.

Having sat down in the private booth they booked, the couple were idling time before their guests were due to show up, which was fast approaching.

"Do you think he's really serious about all this?", Pyrrha asked quietly.

Jaune looked firm in response. "He might have done some nasty things in his life, but I've never known him to go back on his word. So he'll likely make an effort to rebuild things, if only for your and my mother's sakes."

As he finished saying this at the stroke of twelve, the front doors opened, allowing Colonel Sir Noirtier Arc and Lady Xanthe Arc to walk in. The Colonel, as usual, wore his military dress uniform, while Xanthe had opted for a golden-hued, floor length dress.

As Pyrrha rose from her seat, Jaune stood forward from the table to greet them, with Lady Arc taking the lead by embracing Jaune first.

"Good to see you well, my son."

"Likewise, mother."

Turning his gaze to meet his father's, Jaune offered his father a handshake. Noirtier, to his credit, returned the handshake with stern approval etched on his face.

"Congratulations on the promotion, son."

Jaune smiled happily, finally receiving something sorely lacking in his life until that point.

"And who's that young woman with you, Jaune?"

Jaune beamed as he beckoned his lover towards his parents.

"Mother, father, I introduce you two to my girlfriend, Dr. Pyrrha Nikos. Archaeologist, adventurer and researcher at Exham Museum. Pyrrha, meet Colonel Sir Noirtier Arc and Lady Xanthe Arc, my parents."

* * *

Jaune could never have asked for a better reconciliation between him and his parents – even the quality of French cuisine on offer was top-notch. Lady Xanthe had greeted Pyrrha exactly like she'd greeted the three young men who'd married her oldest three daughters – with a level of enthusiasm and warmth seldom seen in the aristocracy. Given her innate ability to read people, she'd instantly noted Pyrrha's suitability for her son, and said as much to Jaune when Pyrrha had adjourned to the ladies' room.

And much to their mutual surprise, Sir Noirtier had apologised to his son for his behaviour. As he'd admitted to Jaune, the Colonel now realised that his son's career in the police force was a good move in the long run, and even said that both he and Pyrrha were welcome in both their properties. Of course, he'd also approved of Pyrrha as a romantic partner, and even asked about her 1888 expedition with Baillet and Bénédite. Much to _her_ surprise, Pyrrha found him to have a keen eye for archaeology, which the soldier had pursued as a hobby throughout his campaigns in foreign lands.

Just over two hours later, Jaune and Pyrrha were strolling arm-in-arm towards the Stepney station, intending to catch the next tube home after the reconciliation.

"You know," Pyrrha said gently, "I'm glad things turned out the way they did. I just wish Arthur had survived the murder attempt, if only so he could see the pair of us together."

Jaune turned to her with a look of agreement.

"Likewise. I wish I'd known him as you did; he seemed to be a decent man, all things considered."

Pyrrha nodded as her arm slinked around the small of Jaune's back.

"Yes, he was. But he was only half the man that you are on your worst days, Jaune."

Jaune blushed a shade of red that matched Pyrrha's auburn hair and returned her compliment.

"That _still_ makes me a third of the person you are, my beloved."

Pyrrha laughed giddily and kissed her partner on the cheek as they strode past the Limehouse fish markets. Suddenly, a bizarre sight caught Pyrrha's peripheral vision, and she spun around reflexively.

"Jaune, look where I'm pointing!"

His gaze shifted as Pyrrha's mouth dropped. There was Ruby, the young scythe-obsessed girl, holding aloft an enormous red scythe with an elephant gun's barrel at the top. She lowered it into a live fish barrel and hefted up a man with a breathing tube, with the help of a blonde half-Asian who seemed physically stronger than Jaune. Pyrrha's gaze locked onto to Jaune's face, and she quickly surmised that he knew these people.

 _Wait a minute_ , Pyrrha realised, _that Ruby girl must have brought Jaune along to see me that night! I guess I owe her my thanks_. Jaune and Pyrrha walked on over to observe the commotion, which had drawn a small crowd. Jaune recognised the man in the barrel; Warren Burgundy, the notorious burglar. _Clearly_ , Jaune wryly observed, _the two-hundred guineas on offer were enough to entice_ _this_ _dynamic duo to take action_.

* * *

As they drew ever closer, the pair heard the tail end of Yang's conversation with the burglar as Ruby cuffed him around a drain pipe.

"How did you manage to spot me?"

"Oh, come on, it was obvious! Even _I_ know that Burgundy doesn't go with fish."

Pyrrha chuckled heartily at that; she sensed a kindred spirit of irreverence in the blonde brawler. To her surprise, it was Jaune who struck up the conversation first.

"Well, it makes sense for him to defy that convention; hiding out here is perfect for such a sus-fish-ious character."

That produced a larger amount of laughter from Pyrrha, the crowd and the blonde woman, as well as a groan from the red-bedecked huntress.

"Is it _really_ your prerogative to be a bad influence on Jaune's taste in jokes, Yang?"

Yang snorted derisively. "Well, hey and excuse me Ruby; I just like puns!"

Turning to Jaune and Pyrrha, Yang and Ruby walked up demurely.

"Good to see you again Jaune," Yang said cheerily. "Congratulations on the promotion, by the way!"

"Why thanks, Yang."

"Care to introduce me to your friend over here?", Yang asked whilst indicating Pyrrha.

"Very well. Yang, this is Doctor Pyrrha Nikos of Exham Museum. Pyrrha, meet professional huntresses Yang Xiao Long, and … well, you've already met Ruby Rose."

Pyrrha smiled brightly as she shook their respective hands.

"Pleased to meet you, Yang, and good to see you again, Ruby. Now I now why you were drooling at the ancient scythe in the gallery that night."

Jaune and Yang both started sniggering as Ruby blushed purple in embarrassment.

"Well, ah, I was already planning to make my weapon a scythe with a built-in elephant gun, but I needed inspiration for the shape and weight distribution. Yang gave us the tickets to your gallery opening, and I found inspiration in that scythe."

Pyrrha nodded. "Well, I'm glad to have helped you make such a masterly weapon. By the way, how do you two know the good inspector over here?"

"We've been family friends with Jaune for most of our lives, actually," Yang replied.

"Well," said Pyrrha mischievously, "I do hope you two don't plan to pinch him from me."

After the sisters exchanged surprised glances at this piece of news, Yang threw her head back and laughed at the idea of either her or Ruby fancying Jaune, then congratulated the happy couple. Ruby's jaw, meanwhile, had hit the pavement for realising that asking Jaune to chaperone her last month had led to someone she admired finding love.

"I'm _so_ _happy_ for the pair of you!", Ruby responded giddily.

Pyrrha smiled and blushed as Jaune kissed her cheek.

"Shall we invite them to yours tonight?", he whispered into her ear.

Pyrrha nodded almost imperceptibly. "We may as well, Jaune."

"Hello, new friends!"

* * *

The four looked towards the new voice. Nora Valkyrie was dressed in her salmon hunting costume and white boots, with a parasol over her left shoulder. Magnhild hung in its compact form off her left hip.

"Nora!", Yang and Ruby sing-songed as the Irish woman hugged them.

"How come you guys know each other?" asked Jaune as Nora shook his hand.

"Well, we huntresses gotta stick together!", Yang joked. "Seriously though, Nora and I met a fortnight after the storm over Westminster – as it turned out, we go to the same blacksmith for supplies and repairs. Ruby here then took a joint mission with Nora by sheer happenstance a week ago, and we got friendly with each other."

"Well, that's funny," Pyrrha began. "I also met Nora through that blacksmith as well. By the way, you three," she added, "myself and Jaune were wondering if you were available to join us over dinner tonight. Are you all free?"

"I'm definitely free, Pyrrha," Nora said in her excitable manner. Ruby and Yang merely exchanged glances, and nodded.

"We'll be there. Whereabouts is it?"

"Don't worry about that, Yang," replied Jaune; "just make your way to the Kensington High Street tube station by seven, and we'll meet you there."

"Sounds like a plan," Ruby agreed. "We'll need a hand hauling this guy off first, though," she added, nodding at the fuming Burgundy.

"I can help you two there," Nora offered, unholstering Magnhild from her belt.

"A smithing hammer with a Dust blaster inside it?", Yang asked quizzically.

"Not by half, it isn't," said Nora dangerously, transforming her weapon into warhammer mode.

"That is _so_ cool, Nora!", said Ruby dizzily as Yang nodded in approval.

"What about you, Doctor? Do you have a weapon that you use on your expeditions?", Ruby asked sweetly.

Pyrrha confidently smirked. "Just these two little marvels."

Pyrrha unstrapped and equipped Milό and Akoúo̱ from underneath her maroon cloak, then switched Milo into its sword mode – this time though, the stock retracted into itself and the hilt; Neptune had spent weeks designing that.

"Sweet weapon, doc," Yang said brightly. Meanwhile, Ruby was soundly awestruck with her new favourite weapon – asides from Crescent Rose, of course.

"OHMYGODthatissupercrazyawesome! We should _definitely_ train together sometime!"

The others chuckled at Ruby's innocent excitability for weapons.

"Well, I've got a reasonably-sized backyard behind my townhouse," Pyrrha explained, "so we could work up an appetite before dinner is served."

"Sounds good!", Yang affirmed. "Well, we'd better get going; Nora, care to give us a hand?"

"Sure thing, Yang!", the ginger bombardier replied.

As Nora helped the sisters deliver their bounty, Jaune and Pyrrha walked towards the Stepney train station, with Pyrrha leaning her head on Jaune's shoulder as they waited in line for tickets. The two shared tender smiles, and Pyrrha reached up and kissed Jaune's left cheek. His ecstasy was evident as he spoke his mind to the woman he loved.

"God only knows what I'd be without you, Pyrrha."

* * *

 **A/N: The title and song for this chapter are one and the same: "God Only Knows", which is probably the best song the Beach Boys ever did.**

 **Thanks to every last one of you who viewed, favourited, reviewed and enjoyed this experience. I sincerely hope that I've added a worthy fic to the Belladonna Lilies AU, and I had an amazing time writing all of this. I'd once again like to thank the original creator of Belladonna Lilies, DezoPenguin, for allowing the addition of this fic to his work.**

 **If you liked what you've just read, then please hit up Belladonna Lilies and Burning Gold, the original two fics in the AU. Reading my other fic, Goodbellas, would be cool as well.**


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